


Doggone Days

by ninian



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Body Dysphoria, Crack Treated Seriously, Desmond Miles Lives, Gen, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Sharing a Body, Time Travel, just imagine syndicate if desmond was there and he was a dog, slight canon divergence but mostly follows canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2019-05-18 00:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14842476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninian/pseuds/ninian
Summary: Desmond Miles woke up, in 19th Century London and in the body of a Welsh Corgi. At the very least, he can catch a break, reflect on life and not have to worry about the Assassin-Templar war for a while, right?Unfortunately, Desmond was never the luckiest person alive, and he was starting to realize he wasn't the luckiest dog alive either.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> new fandom means i have to write something new haha RIGHT???
> 
> was looking for ideas, got bored, went to the asscreed kink meme looking for ideas and came across [this little gem](https://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/2158.html?thread=12631662#cmt12631662). this was meant to be a oneshot buuuut 46 pages later, i realized that this was gonna be a multichapter fic. this mostly follows canon, though obviously there's some divergence here and there. obviously, this is kinda a crack idea and it's mostly supposed to be humorous but there's some serious scenes here and there!
> 
> i never know how to end my notes so uh enjoy??? this idea is weird.

When Desmond came to, he realized something was wrong.

For one, the voices he heard sounded like Shaun had multiplied himself and _that_ alone was a nightmare to think about, but his entire body felt a little different. He felt both lighter and at the same time a little heavier than his usual weight, and was it just him or did his legs feel a lot shorter than usual?

The last thing he remembered doing was standing in the Grand Temple and touching that orb, saving the world but sacrificing _his_ life in the process. He saved the world, yeah, but he also released Juno. So, you know, not exactly the greatest outcome for everyone but he was confident someone would stop him in his place.

Of course, that reflecting didn’t exactly answer his body questions. Maybe death makes your body feel differently.

Finally opening his eyes, he groggily looked around the room. His vision blurred a little and he yawned to try and get the sleepiness out of his eyes. Once he properly came to, he realized something.

He was in a house.

Not the temple, not some mortician's room, but a decent looking house. Or at least, he was settled in a decent looking room. He was also on the floor, but it took him a moment to register that fact. Once he did, he craned his neck downwards as he was just about to pull himself from the wooden floor.

Was he finally losing his goddamn mind or were those an _actual set of paws_ attached to his body? It had to be the former, right? _Please_ be the former.

He was just exhausted and seeing things, that had to be it.

He closed his eyes tightly, hoping that when he opened them he would see his human shaped hands with human skin and _definitely_ not fur, but when he did, he found himself to be quite disappointed. The same furry paws as before. He huffed a little, realizing that this was quite the predicament he was in.

Well, there was no use in just lying on the ground. He needed to figure out where he was. If he was close to home, then maybe he could find his way back. Maybe Rebecca or Shaun could figure this whole thing out.

Standing up, his little legs took off as he started to explore the room. Perhaps it was canine instincts melting into his own, but he didn’t hesitate to sniff around the room for some sort of clue. The room smelt flowery and a little bit like tea.

( He would know; Shaun drinks the damn beverage any chance he gets. )

He stopped at a desk. A chair was pulled out from it and Desmond did his best to hop onto it. He struggled a little, wiggling around to try and pull himself up, and somehow, he managed to do so. It was weird not having thumbs; he took them for granted when he was a human.

_‘Alright, now let’s see what I can find…’_

He focused, and his vision immediately shifted. Documents glowed, important ones highlighting themselves in a bright white. Alright, it seemed like his Eagle Vision was still intact, a little weaker than before, but still there. He pushed some of the papers with his snout, eyes darting around until he found the morning newspaper laid out in front of him.

 _London, 1868_.

Brown eyes stared at the date. 1868, that was the 19th century or something, right? And he was in Britain.

 _‘OK, so nowhere near New York or even the farm or even in the right_ century _. That’s_ great _. You’ve somehow time traveled back in time and you’re a dog. Not even a threatening dog or a big dog. A little one with short legs and a fat body. Way to kick off coming back from the dead, Desmond.’_

“Desmond?”

A woman’s voice rang from the hallway and Desmond’s ears perked up. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew ( well, obviously, because he’s in the 19th century and in London ) and he jumped down from the chair. Just as he did, an older woman with grey haired walked in, looking around the room before finding the tiny dog on the floor, staring back up at her.

“Oh, there you are!” She smiled and reached down to pet him. “You ran off suddenly, so I thought there was something wrong!”

He tried to say something, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a bark. Expected, since he’s a dog now, but it still startled him a little. He had no means of communicating at all with someone else. The woman didn’t seem to catch onto his startled expression and picked him up, carrying him in her arms.

“Come now, Desmond, let’s go back to Dizzy and the others!”

Desmond had no idea who ‘Dizzy’ was, but he had to admit, being carried in someone’s arms wasn’t a bad feeling. It reminded him of when his own mother would carry him to his room when he was younger, after falling asleep on the couch.

The memory caused his eyes to flutter close, as he let out a sigh. He’ll figure more things out later. He needed to rest a little.

 

* * *

 

So, _London_.

He was in London _and_ in the 19th century. He doesn’t get why Shaun likes it so much; it’s cloudy most days and a little cool even when the sun is out. Oh well, it’s Shaun’s home and you know what they say, home is where the heart is. Even Desmond missed New York from time to time.

It didn’t take him long to figure out just who owned him. Mary Anne Disraeli was the wife of Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli and both seemed like nice people. At the very least, they took care of him. Desmond remembered how there were ungrateful pet owners back in New York who treated their pets like accessories and things like that, so he was grateful that he was stuck with people who cared for him.

Mary Anne was nice, albeit maybe a little on the kooky side, but she meant well, obviously. She was clearly someone who went out of the way to not be a part of the norm, and Desmond had to admit that he could respect that a lot. Good ol’ Dizzy wasn’t too bad either, though he did have a particular annoyance with the Gladstones. He swore, if there was a button to press to cause the Gladstones to poof away, Benjamin would slam that button a hundred times.

The pamper life is different, though. After being used to being pushed around and used as a pawn, working hard back at the bar to earn a living for that shitty apartment he had, he wasn’t used to having things handed to him. Alright, well, he _was_ a dog, so dogs didn’t really need to do any work, but it was still jarring to get used to.

Still, months passed and slowly he started to get used to it. He didn’t have much of a choice; he couldn’t figure anything else besides where he was. Not why he was turned into a dog, or why he traveled back in time - nothing.

The most he could think of was that Minerva or Jupiter, or even _Juno_ , was behind this, but at this point he was just hypothesizing. He couldn’t exactly prove it, aside from the fact that Minerva really thought he was the chosen one and whatnot, and stood by that claim, so she would do what she needed to do to keep his mind alive. But, again, it was all hypothesizing.

He wanted to go out and try and figure out what was going on. It was a little frustrating being a dog, since there was very little he could do in this form.

 _‘Calm down, Desmond,’_ he told himself as he watched the carriages and people pass by the window, _‘you need to get used to this body first. You’ll get your chance soon.’_

Outside of the room, the low blow of the train’s whistle carried out into the wind, as it came in from Crawley on its usual route.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond falls into the wrong hands, and then falls into _another_ pair of wrong hands. At least this one had a cool looking hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick note - this is _mostly_ in desmond's pov, but sometimes the pov will switch a little. this is one of those times, in the middle of the story.
> 
> anyway, thanks for the feedback so far! i didn't think this would get any attention but i'm happy some people are intrigued by the silly little idea! it's been a long time since i've done a multichapter fic, so i hope it's decent so far!

Desmond had enough of that house.

As nice as the Disraelis were, they weren’t around often, and they went to places where Mary Ann couldn’t bring a dog with her, so Desmond was forced to stay home. They were going to be gone for more than a few days too and their original dog sitter had to bail at the last minute. The maids and all didn’t really care about him, aside from feeding him and letting him out to do his business, so sneaking out was easier than he thought.

He opened the window with his teeth and pushed it open, the two panels allowing for the London breeze to hit his face, before taking a leap of faith and landing in a pile of hay that was conveniently placed below the windowsill.

Too easy, but he wasn’t complaining that badly. He shook the hay from his fur after hopping out of the pile and off he went.

His little legs took him down the street as he tried to figure out a good starting point. He really wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He didn’t want to resort to this, especially since he wanted out of this goddamn Assassin-Templar war, but maybe he could find some Assassins living here and possibly get their attention and make them understand that he was not actually a dog, but an assassin just like them.

There _had_ to be a Brotherhood here, right? The only problem was London was _big_ and even with the use of his eagle vision, the size of the city alone would slow him down. Again, _where_ would he even start looking for the Brotherhood?

What to do, what to do...

Lost in his own thoughts, he couldn’t escape a pair of grubby hands reaching out to grab him. He yelped, a little embarrassed by how pathetic it sounded, and he tried to wiggle his way out. No dice, though; the guy had a good grip on him.

“Oi, check it out!” A man in red carried him under his arm, making sure that the dog couldn’t struggle hard. “The Disraeli’s dog is out on the streets!”

Red clothing. Oh, those were the _Blighters_ , weren’t they? He heard about them, read about them in the paper. A fearsome gang or something like that, and they just so happened to have the dog of the Prime Minister’s wife right in their hands.

_‘Great,’_ thought Desmond as the man carried him away, _‘I’ve been kidnapped_ again _. Seriously, is this going to be a recurring theme in my life? Because I want a new one.’_

His gaze focused, the world around him becoming greyer as he saw at least five red figures behind a wall. Of course, this guy wasn’t alone and at this point, it was him - a small dog with little legs - verses five gang members who could probably run faster than him. He had to think of something, and quick.

He just hoped the Disraelis cared enough to want him back, otherwise he might end up as someone’s handbag.

 

* * *

 

Jacob was getting bored.

Antsy and bored, to be exact. Though he was successful with starting his gang, Evie _always_ had some other plans for him. She had _insisted_ that he stay on the train and help her and Henry out with their research on the Piece of Eden and so, here he was - lounging on the couch behind them and being a little more than huffy about it.

It didn’t help that Evie and Henry seemed more focused on _themselves_ in between research time, giving each other those longing stares and when they passed something to each other, their hands just lingered a little too long against each other. He wasn’t even sure _why_ he was so bothered by it, but he was, and nothing was going to stop him being not bothered by it.

“Grumbling about it won’t make us move faster, Jacob.” Evie remarked, barely looking over her shoulder.

The younger twin snorted. “And wasting our time with some tosh artifact won’t liberate London faster, but you’re _so_ intent on doing so.”

Dusting her hands off, Evie turned towards Jacob with a frown. “If Templars get their hands on it, it won’t be good for us _or_ for the rest of London. It’s better to secure it now than later, when Starrick could already have it in his possession.”

“If you’d let me _handle_ our little Templar problem, we wouldn’t have to be rushing to find it.” Jacob looked at his sister with a sneer. “From my point of view, _something_ seems to be occupying your mind more than the Piece of Eden.”

Evie threw Jacob a look and if looks could kill, her younger twin would be dead on the ground now. Before the older twin could get another word in, Henry cleared his throat. The two stopped glaring at each other long enough to give their mentor their attention.

“It might do some good for both of you to get out and enjoy the streets of London. Both of you have been cooped up in for the past day or so.” He said with a soft smile. “I can continue the research from here. It wouldn't be so bad to get some fresh air to clear your heads.”

“Good ol’ Greenie, knowing just what I’m talking about!” Jacob grinned right at him, happy that for once, Henry was taking his side.

( indirectly, anyway, and more concerned with their research but he still took that as a win. )

Evie, on the other hand, still pursued her lips in a frown. Just as she was about to open her mouth to retort against it, a Rook had made their way into the train.

“Boss!” The male Rook called out, pointing outside of the train. “Gang war! We need some back up!”

“Just in time, too.” Jacob mumbled, grabbing his hat and placing it on his head. He patted Evie’s back, clearly still gloating about his little win. “Watching you and Greenie make eyes at each other was also getting _quite_ boring, by the way.”

“Jacob!”

But of course, the younger twin was already hoping out of Bertha, just as the train started to move. His feet landed on the pavement, the sun shining through the little bits of clear sky over London’s horizon. Finally, he could feel the sunlight’s warmth on his skin.

Fixing his coat, he quickly made a dash for it, a wild grin right on his face.

 

* * *

 

 A gang war, of course, a gang war just had to happen as he was being abducted.

It couldn’t have happened to another group of Blighters? Obviously not; the world had already been so cruel to Desmond - a secret organization abducting him just as he was finally getting a bike, the one only person who he relied on being a traitor to him and the Brotherhood ( and being forced to kill her when he _didn’t even want to_ ) and let’s not forget about the little bit where he died and reincarnated into a dog!

Yeah, the universe was not on his side.

From the looks of it, the Blighters were trying to take back a territory they had lost when they found Desmond, but their plans were ruined by the gang that now owned the place - the Rooks or something like that. The next thing he knew, fists were flying, guns were being shot off and knives were stabbing.

You know, a typical Tuesday in London.

A Blighter carried him under his arm as he made a dash for it, told to keep the dog in a safe place so they could use it to get to the Disraelis. Currently, a hand was over his muzzle and all Desmond could do was growl at him. A small dog growling, however, could not be threatening to anyone.

_‘Seriously, I couldn’t have been turned into a Pitbull? It had to be a goddamn_ corgi _. Man, the universe_ really _does like making fun of me.’_

The Blighter turned the corner with his back pressed against the wall. He looked beyond, trying to see if he was followed or not. It was quiet, a little too quiet for Desmond’s liking.

_‘This usually doesn’t end well.’_ Desmond thought to himself.

“Evening, lad. You look like you’re in some hurry.”

As if on cue, a voice rang from above, on the rooftop. The Blighter tried to make a clean getaway, but the owner of the voice jumped from the rooftop, blocking his way with quite the wicked grin on his face.

Desmond’s brown eyes studied him; he wore a black coat, the hood obscuring a good part of his face, but the dog could tell that the man had some facial hair on him. On his left hand was a gold gauntlet, which seemed to have a hookshot attached to it, if he was guessing correctly.

Jacket, hood.

Desmond shifted right into his eagle vision, looking at his possible savior. Instead of the usual red or green, the man before him was covered in nothing but _blue_.

He was an assassin.

The weight on his muzzle was suddenly taken off from the Blighter holding onto it. Taking his chance, Desmond’s canine teeth sank into the Blighter’s hand before he could move it away and yelping in pain, the gangster dropped the dog. The corgi quickly ran over to the assassin’s side, growling at the Blighter.

“Good boy,” chuckled the assassin as he looked over at the Blighter. “Doesn’t seem like the dog likes you very much and on top of that, it looks like your boss is _dead_. A shame, but I’m more interested in where _you’re_ running off to. I saw you exchange a few words before you fled, what’s so secretive, now?”

His entire form practically screamed predator as he took a step forward. Desmond could see the hidden blade, ready to be used. The Blighter, clearly in fear of him, took a step back as the male kept getting closer and closer to him.

“I-I was just bringing the dog somewhere else!” The scared male squeaked out finally. “Boss’s orders!”

“... Dog sitting.” That threw the assassin for a loop. Taking his chance, the Blighter quickly ran down the alleyway, screaming like a coward. For a moment, the assassin thought about chasing him, but decided not to and deemed it worthless. There was a reason they chose him to do whatever dog sitting he had to do and from the looks of it, the dog didn’t even belong to them.

“Probably stole it from some rich bloke to get some cash.” The man mumbled as he looked over at Desmond.

_‘Oh, you have_ no _idea.’_ Desmond thought as he gave him a look. The almost human expression seemed to throw him for another loop and he took a step towards the dog. He squinted a little, looking at the corgi as though he was looking for something and he blinked a few times, tilting his head to the side.

“... Blue?”

An odd thing to say, but Desmond wasn’t a stranger to it.

Eagle Vision tends to do that to you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Obvious and his pal No-Shit, Sherlock realize that there's something peculiar about a certain dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanted to get this out before i left for the movies! i think it's shorter than the other chapters but considering i tend to write a lot in the first place, my word's not that reliable. enjoy some jacob and henry interactions ( with a tiny dog ).
> 
> by the by, am i the only one who finds jacob and evie's nicknames for each other oddly endearing? 'sweet sister' and 'brother dearest' are cute sibling nicknames, even though it's obviously used when they're annoyed with each other. i still find it kinda cute. but i'm very biased towards the frye twins so anything they do is cute. my bisexual ass loves them.

So, Jacob hadn’t _intended_ to take the dog with him. Was this a kidnapping? _Dognapping_? He’d figure out a word for it later.

To be fair, though, he wasn’t kidnapping him. It’s not like he could leave the dog there and aside from his name - Desmond - being on the collar, there was no street address or whatever on it. There was also the fact that the dog was glowing blue in his eagle vision. Dogs weren’t _supposed_ to glow blue. Dogs weren’t _supposed_ to be allies, at least in the way he was thinking of.

Maybe Henry knew something about it. He couldn’t tell Evie about it; she would tell him to stop being an idiot. At least Henry would be nicer about it. Besides, Evie was always taking up his time; maybe he wanted a little bit of alone time with good ol’ Greenie.

The Rooks seemed to take a good liking to Desmond as they made their way back to the train. They pet him, took turns holding him, things like that. The corgi seemed to settle nicely too, mainly because he wasn’t being held hostage. One of them finally handed the dog back to Jacob and the male stepped onto Bertha.

“Greenie?” Jacob called out into the train car, hoping he was still around.

“In here.”

He followed the sound of Henry’s voice, coming across him looking around the room. He looked up briefly to give Jacob a quick nod of his head in greeting.

“I see the gang fight went well,” mumbled Henry as he continued to look around the room, not even registering that there was a dog in Jacob’s grasp.

“Always does, since we’re unstoppable.” Jacob grinned as he placed Desmond down on the ground. “Lose your marbles or something, Greenie?”

An annoyed huff exhaled from the white robed assassin, not at Jacob himself but just at his own frustration of losing something. “I will if I don’t find this document. I promised your sister I would look it over.”

“Maybe I can help find it.” The other assassin shrugged his shoulders and began to look around the room. The two men were growing frustrated at the fact that they couldn’t find it, not even Jacob’s eagle vision could be of any use.

“Think it flew out the train car?” Jacob asked.

“I hope not. It was an important document.” Henry shook his head. “I know I left it out here somewhere.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head, Greenie,” said Jacob as he patted Henry’s shoulder, “we’ll find it soon.”

 

* * *

 

Desmond’s eyes darted between the two men as they continued their search. He raised a brow as he listened in on them speak. Apparently, it was a document related to the Piece of Eden they were searching for.

_Piece of Eden…_

It didn’t even occur to him that a Piece of Eden could be laying around here, in London. Maybe that could help him get out of this godforsaken body. As nice as being a dog was, he was getting a little frustrated at his lack of thumbs. Maybe it could also get him back in his own time. One step at a time, though.

So, Desmond began to sniff and walk around the train. The scent of the train was new to him, but he felt as though he was on the right track.

Eventually, his path lead to a stack of papers. He budged them with his nose, his eyes darting around for any keywords. Things like ‘apple’, ‘sword’, anything that could relate to a Piece of Eden.

_Shroud._

_‘Oh, there we are. Hello, ticket to a human body!’_

He looked back at the two men, who were still looking for it, and barked to get their attention. Startled at the sudden sound, they both looked up to see Desmond sitting on a nearby chair. Henry’s eyes darted to the desk, seeing the document on the table.

“Oh, there it is!” He exclaimed as he went over to the desk, picking it up. Jacob grinned at went over to the corgi, patting his head and ruffling his fur a little. Desmond leaned into it, closing his eyes. Oh, that felt _good_.

“Who’s a good boy? You are.”

Henry busied himself with looking over the document, before suddenly realizing that there was a _dog_ sitting right in that chair. His gaze darted between the corgi and the other assassin, before finally settling onto Jacob as he lowered the document.

“When did a dog get here?” Henry asked with some suspicion in his voice.

“Oh, right. Thought I forgot to mention one little thing.” Jacob walked over to Desmond and patted his head. “I, uh, made a friend?”

Desmond looked up at Jacob and squinted at him. Jacob threw him a look, as though to tell him not to say anything, which frankly is _stupid_ because dogs can’t talk. Desmond only squinted more in response.

Judging from the matching expression on his face, Henry, too, was not a convinced man.

“OK, so, I may have accidentally dognapped a dog,” explained Jacob as he gestured to Desmond, “but he has no street address on his tag, so is it _really_ dognapping?”

“It most certainly _is_ ,” sighed Henry as he shook his head. “I’ll try and find the owner later.”

“Oi, I’m not finished.” Jacob crossed his arms and pouted like a child. “Anyway, the dog was glowing blue in my eagle vision. _Blue_. I haven’t the foggiest idea why, either. I was hoping you could figure what that’s about.”

“Glowing blue?” Henry repeated, and the brown-haired male nodded. The mentor tapped his fingers onto the desk as he looked at Desmond. “I can’t possibly think of why a dog would glow blue, of all things, without being prompted to. Red or green, perhaps, but not _blue_.”

Seeing Jacob’s frustration of having no answer, Henry continued. “In between researching with your sister, I’ll look into it a little more. There might be something in old text about this.”

 _‘Old text, yeah.’_ Desmond huffed a little. _‘More like I’m actually a human trapped in the form of a dog, but of course dogs can’t talk. Fuck Scooby-doo. He took that shit for granted.’_

“I knew you would, Greenie.” The assassin grinned, though the mention of his sister did cause him to look around. “Speaking of Evie, where is she?”

“Right here.”

The two men turned around, just as a certain brown-haired woman was boarding onto the train. “I’ve just went out for some fresh air. You were right, Mr. Green. I think my head’s a little clearer, so we can continue on with our--”

The elder twin stopped in mid-sentence, he eyes fixed on the corgi that was sitting in her seat. Without missing a beat, she looked over at Jacob with a slight glare on her face.

“Brother dearest,” spoke Evie slowly as she crossed her arms, “did you kidnap a dog?”

“Sweet sister, it’s called _dognapping_ , first off.” Evie’s glare did not falter. “And I did not! Let’s just say I made a little friend today after saving him from impending doom.”

Desmond huffed from his nose at that. _‘Sure, friend. Whatever helps you sleep at night.’_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Henry is the first to figure out that, perhaps, Desmond is not a normal dog after all. Also, Desmond's ancestors always seem to find a way to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a late update! was out with my family and mostly because i'm still going back and editing these chapters before i post them and you know, you're always your biggest critic, so i want to make sure these are decent. you know, despite this whole idea being silly and probably doesn't need _that_ much thought to it.
> 
> anyway, as always, thanks for reading / commenting / kudoing / etc! i appreciate it a lot!

Henry had to admit, Jacob’s words did ring throughout his mind during the day.

He walked into his shop with Desmond following behind. After some discussion about what to do with Desmond, they decided to keep him for now and ask around in between jobs. Maybe someone knew who he belonged to. For tonight, Henry offered to watch the dog for Jacob and Evie, as after looking over the document the corgi had found, they had a clue as to where the Piece of Eden could be. There was an artifact in Lucy Thorne’s shipments and both were going to go find it together.

_That was good_ , Henry thought to himself as he locked up shop and headed straight for his desk, the two siblings needed some time to spend together, but that unfortunately left Henry in his own thoughts and that little unanswered question.

For someone to be glowing blue in eagle vision, that usually meant the person was an ally. Aside from law enforcers, the only time someone glowed blue was if they were an assassin. He doubts this dog was on the police force, but he couldn’t think of why this dog would be glowing. Could it be…?

Oh god, he was going mad, wasn’t he? And yet, that was the _only_ solution he could think of.

Desmond hopped into the chair, looking at Henry curiously. With a sigh, the man finally approached the corgi with a serious expression.

“I need some peace of mind, or else I _will_ go mad.” The assassin said as he placed his hands on his desk. “If you can understand every little thing I’m saying, stick your left paw out.”

The corgi did nothing at first and Henry almost breathed out a sigh of relief. That is, until Desmond did stick his left paw out. He didn’t tilt his head like a normal dog would; he looked at Henry with a serious expression. The assassin just blinked, looking off into the distance as a sigh passed his lips.

“Well, I am never going to have that peace of mind now.” He shook his head, drumming his fingers on the desk. “You were reading the document back on the train, weren’t you? Stick your right paw out if you understand what I’m saying and nod your head ‘yes’ if you were.”

Desmond stuck his right paw out and nodded his head yes.

Maybe the dog was well trained, but something told Henry that this wasn’t the case. This corgi was a lot more intelligent than the average dog. He was reading things, he was glowing blue in eagle vision, there was something about this dog that was not normal. Sighing he ran a hand through his hair as he looked at Desmond, who simply stared back at him for another question.

“I am talking to a dog as though he is a person.” He finally mumbled, closing his eyes. “On top of that, I am believing that a dog can be an Assassin, of all things. I really am going mad.”

( _‘Don’t worry, Greenie,’_ Desmond thought to himself, _‘you’ll get used to it.’_ )

 

* * *

 

“It says the London Assassins had found a shroud…”

“The shroud of Eden is supposed to heal even the gravest of injuries...” Evie read aloud, to the words that Henry had pointed out. “If the Assassins had found something like this, surely father would have known.”

_‘Ah, the good ol’_ ‘your dad doesn’t tell you shit’ _thing that seems to run commonly in Assassin circles.’_ Desmond thought. _‘I’ve been there before. Wonder how the old man is doing… Maybe he figured out how to stop Juno with Shaun and Rebecca.’_

The good news is that the Frye Twins had located a journal during their little night time searching. What happened during that, it seemed like Evie didn’t really want to talk about it, but she was flipping through the journal with Desmond sitting in her lap.

The journal belonged to Edward Kenway.

_‘Edward Kenway, huh?’_ Desmond shifted a little in Evie’s lap. That must have meant he was related to Connor. The memories of the Native American assassin were still fresh in his mind, and while he didn’t experience heavy bleeding effect here ( which was a curious thing he’d have to think more about later ), he swore he could still see Connor out of the corner of his eye, along with Altaïr and Ezio close behind.

He shook his head a little, trying not to think about it too much and looked up at Evie. She looked absolutely _exhausted_ , which wasn’t surprising. A late night with Jacob could only mean trouble. It seemed like they might have run into Blighters, but Desmond was only guessing.

Also, the Rooks are loud and know things that Jacob told them, and Jacob said they ran into some Blighters. Desmond liked to think he cracked the case on his own, though.

Still, Evie did look as though she wanted to fall asleep, so the corgi used his eagle vision once more, seeing if he could spot something to help the female twin out.

“There must be something we’re missing…”

“Something only we can see.”

Something only assassins can see, something only those with the eagle vision can see.

White lines had soon appeared, forming a map right on the pages - where only those with that special ability could see.

_‘Thanks, really great grandpa. Hopefully you’re resting up there in pirate heaven, or something.’_ Desmond thought before letting out a whine to alert Evie. The half-asleep woman sat up and blinked a few times, looking down at the dog as she patted his head.

“What’s wrong, Desmond?” She asked curiously. Desmond nudged the paper with his nose, as though he was pointing at it. Focusing her gaze, it didn’t take long for Evie to find the hidden map that Desmond had found.

She blinked, looking down at the corgi. There was no way, right? No, maybe it was just a _coincidence_ that the dog somehow found the page with the secret map on it, right? The older twin simply shook her head and covered her mouth as she yawned.

_Sleep deprived_ , that had to be it. She was thinking too hard because she hadn’t had enough sleep.

… As crazy as it sounded, it wouldn’t hurt to take Desmond along with her and Mr. Green, would it? Apparently, he found the document that would help her, and Jacob find the journal, so maybe he could do a little more.

 

* * *

 

“Find anything?” Henry asked, poking his head in the door. Evie smiled at him as she held up a piece of paper. Desmond jumped from her lap, so she could stand up and walk towards the other assassin.

“These are just like directions!” She cheerfully sang as she headed towards the train doors, with Desmond following in tow. Stopping, she looked behind her when Henry wasn’t following and gestured towards the door. “Are you coming?”

Giving her a sheepish smile, Henry rubbed the back of his neck. “Fieldwork is… not really my specialty.”

“We’ve found a clue to a Precursor object,” retorted Evie as she gave him a look, “don’t you want to follow it?”

At that, he couldn’t help but laugh and stepped forward. “Put that way, one can hardly refuse.” He looked down at Desmond with a raised brow. “Is Desmond joining us on our mission?”

“He might be able to find something we cannot spot at first hand.” The female assassin looked down at the corgi with a smile.

“Taking a dog on a dangerous mission sounds like something your brother would do.”

Evie groaned at the mention of Jacob. “It’s not dangerous if we _plan_ , which is what we’re going to do. Besides, he clearly wants to go out and stretch his legs.” Desmond nodded his head, putting on an expression that resemble someone smiling. Really, he needed to stretch his legs. Henry simply shrugged his shoulders, accepting the answer. He knew Desmond wasn’t an average dog, at least now, anyway.

“Very well,” nodded Henry. “Lead the way, Miss Frye.” 

The two walked outside of the train with Desmond following in tow once more. He looked between the two of them, noting at how close they were. Ah, the whole thing finally clicked for Desmond.

  
_‘Oh, so_ this _is what Jacob was talking about. Poor guy, now I know how he feels.’_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward Kenway sends a couple and their dog on a wild goose chase from beyond the grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late update; i had quite the night yesterday and mostly slept. updates might be a _bit_ slow throughout the week because i'm always editing the chapters i've written so they're decent! and i'm also still writing more chapters in between uploading the ones i've already written. also it's e3 soon so i'll be watching conferences and stuff like that.
> 
> as always, hope you enjoy!

“They said the shroud can bring people back to life, but the Assassin records say that it’s not true…”

Well, Henry’s words were a bit of a bummer to hear, because technically Desmond is _dead_. He’s _dead_ , sacrificing himself to save a world that might be taken over by Juno, on top of that. His chances of gaining his human body seemed almost nonexistent at this point.

Though, was he _really_ dead here, in the 19th century? He had come to terms that this _wasn’t_ some weird Animus glitch he was in - and he _definitely_ wasn’t hooked up to an Animus. Can’t really use a dead body if there’s no brain wave, after all. No, this really _was_ the 19th century he was in, so does this all cancel out or something?

Then again, the Assassins could be wrong about something, or not know what else the shroud can do. Desmond was obviously a special case, and if Minerva was behind this all like he assumed, she _wouldn’t_ have put him in a period where he couldn’t get his body back.

The only thing he could do was find the shroud and put it to the test. Hopefully he was the right one in this whole thing, and hopefully it could even be _used_ to give him his human body back, otherwise he might have to get used to living as a corgi.

 

* * *

 

They had found the Kenway house no problem. Unfortunately, it seemed that Lucy Thorne had the same exact plans as well. No matter, getting into the house would be no problem with three assassins at work.

You know, even if one of those assassins was currently a dog.

Evie had her own plans with Desmond. He played the part of distraction, while Evie took them out one by one. The corgi even tripped them up himself - _literally_ , in some cases. It was hard to explain how you fell down the stairs when there was no supposed dog in sight.

They came across some interesting memorabilia - a pirate hat, a map of Cuba, model ships, things like that - and eventually came across a room after meeting up with Henry once more. The three wandered into the room, looking around the surrounding area to try and find something useful, something that would lead them to the shroud.

The room was spacious enough, enough to allow a piano to sit in there at the very least. The two human assassins looked around the room, shuffling through books on the book shelves.

“What are the Templars not seeing?” Henry mumbled to himself.

“Something only we can.”

As they searched, Desmond sniffed around the room himself. There was an odd scent, one he couldn’t put his finger on exactly. Scents don’t last long, but this trail oddly smelled like the sea. The trail led him to the cabinet in the room. There was something up there, wasn’t there? Unfortunately, he was a little too small to see. Looking over at a nearby Evie, he tapped his foot to get her attention.

“What did you find, Desmond?” She asked, wandering over to him. The corgi looked up, Evie following his gaze. She squinted at the sight above the cabinet. Everything greyed out, with only a scribble of white writing visible. Treble clef lines, with music notes lining up on the appropriate lines and spaces.

“D… A… D… E… F… D…”

 _How odd_ , she thought to herself, until she remembered the piano sitting in the room. Her hands hovered over the keys for a minute before allowing her to play the notes that were scribbled on the wall. The tune was beautiful, a little melancholy now that Desmond thought about it, but the thoughts of sad sounding music eased from his mind when the floor began to open.

Henry and Evie looked at each other, soft laughter coming from their lips at the thought of a piano being the key to this whole thing.

“Not enormously subtle, is it?”

“Clearly, Kenway had a strong sense of spectacle.”

 _‘Yeah’,_ Desmond hopped down the stairs to the secret room with the two following him, _‘hard to believe this Edward guy is related to Connor, though. Connor would be hiding the clues, so_ no one _could find them.’_

It was a tiny room compared to the piano room, but it only made sense. It was supposed to be a secret room, with only a few people knowing. Or just Edward himself being the only one who knew about it. Maybe he had a feeling that Templars would try and find the shroud, so he wanted whatever Assassins from London to beat them to it.

Maybe he’s just thinking about what Clay did for him.

He tried not to think about him - tried not to think about how he _sacrificed_ himself to save him, only for Desmond to turn around and _die_ \- and decided to look around the room. Maybe there was something interesting here, something they could use.

On the wall, there looked to be a ship’s steering wall, conveniently placed near a caved-in looking wall.

“This looks like it’s from the Jackdaw.” Henry told Desmond. The two looked at it for a moment, before the assassin decided to look somewhere else. The corgi stared at the steering wheel, mentally raising a brow at it. Why was it placed _here_ , of all places?

Suspicious, he’ll have to keep that in mind for later.

As Henry inspected the room, Evie went towards a table against the wall. She picked up at artifact laid out on it and placed it in her pocket before picking up a piece of paper.

“A history of the London Assassins... “ She mumbled as she continued to read. “Bolt holes, vaults, a hidden key…” She looked towards Henry and Desmond. “This is it.”

_‘Alright, shroud located. That means we can go off and find it! Celebration for my possible human body!’_

“-- You said you heard music playing?”

Celebration postponed.

“There was no opening here before!’

Celebration _really_ postponed.

Henry quickly ran towards the lever near the pathway and pulled it down, the door closing right on Lucy Thorne and the Blighter she was with. That was met with Lucy calling out to go find another opening, footsteps thumping against the roof above the assassins.

“We need to find another way out.” Evie stated calmly.

 _Another way out_. Desmond didn’t even stop to think. He ran over to the steering wall and barked to get their attention. Following his cue, the female assassin went over to the steering wheel and started to turn it. Like a secret door in a movie, the wall opened, revealing… well, that it was a secret door and it had an exit for them.

_‘Man, Indiana Jones has nothing on Edward Kenway.’_

The three began to race down the hallways of the secret path, with Evie sighing a little in defeat. “An entire vault filled with Assassin history, left behind once again.” She sadly stated, glancing over her shoulder at the abandoned vault.

“We’ll just have to reclaim this one later or find a better cache.” Henry said as he patted Evie’s shoulder in support.

 _‘Yeah, don’t worry Evie,’_ Desmond waddled along with the two, _‘maybe Kenway’s got a bathroom filled with the secrets of the Brotherhood.’_

“We?” chuckled Evie with a raised brow. “I thought you said you preferred to stay out of fieldwork, Mr. Green?”

The male assassin coughed nervously. “I, ah, was thinking more of you and your brother. I shall provide planning assistance.” He cleared his throat. “From the train.”

Desmond made a weird sounding noise - a mix of a laugh and a bark, if dogs could even laugh. Poor Greenie - had his chance, got cold feet and decided to bail at the last second. _‘Top 10 Betrayals of all time, Greenie.’_ Desmond amusingly thought.

“You,” spoke Henry as he pointed at Desmond, “be quiet.”

Evie laughed at the sight before her, as the man and dog glared at each other. “Arguing with a dog seems like something my brother would do.”

“Desmond is smarter than he looks.” The mentor huffed, defeated by both Evie and Desmond.

The corgi just smiled in triumph. Maybe he was enjoying this ‘dog-being-smarter-than-normal’ thing a little too much.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob makes a deal with the devil. Desmond's not too thrilled about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> e3's rolling around this week so expect updates to be slow because it's my favorite holiday! also because i am constantly editing the chapters i've already written and i'm a little unsure about the upcoming chapter 7, so i might need to rewrite that.
> 
> but ANYWAY enough ranting about writing, i hope you enjoy this chapter! i should probably start putting in the other characters that will appear here in the tags. i'll do that as soon as they pop up.

Desmond trotted behind Henry as the two made their way towards the mentor’s shop. Henry was really the only one who knew something was up with the corgi, so Desmond mostly stuck by his side. Not that he didn’t spend time with the twins - in fact, whenever Henry wasn’t around, he was with either one of the assassins. He was either sitting in Evie’s lap as she looked over documents or Jacob took him to the pub to visit with the Rooks.

Seriously, the Rooks loved Desmond and treated him like their little mascot. One of them even punched a guy out for saying he was an ugly dog.

But as nice as the twins were, he felt a little safer with Henry. Evie and Jacob Frye were just two sides of different chaos and Henry Green made him feel a little more grounded. He did feel a little bad for him; he tried to help convince the Frye twins that Desmond wasn’t what he seemed, but Evie looked at him like he was crazy, and Jacob couldn’t help but poke fun at him, saying that he ‘officially lost his marbles’ because of Evie ( who didn’t appreciate the sentiment at all ).

“Weren’t _you_ the one who told me he was glowing blue?” Henry confronted him.

Jacob rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, sure, but I didn’t think you would take me that _seriously_.”

“As smart as Desmond is,” Evie poked her head through the door, “I just think he’s that - smart.”

“Yeah, he’s a smart pup.” Jacob bent down and began to rub Desmond’s stomach. “Who’s the smartest pup ever - you are!”

“A dog doesn’t naturally understand complex human speech,” Henry pointed out, “and he seems to understand what we’re saying.”

Evie bit in the inside of her cheek in thought. “Perhaps he’s simply trained well. It’s not unusual, especially since he’s a purebred. His owner could be someone who participates in dog shows - you know those are becoming quite popular in recent years.”

“I don’t know, _Christmas Eve_ , don’t dogs have to be a certain weight to participate in those shows?” Jacob held Desmond’s paws as he stood him up on his hind legs. “Not exactly the skinniest dog around, you know.”

Said corgi barked, _clearly_ offended by that statement.

Henry didn’t really believe what Evie had said. Not that Desmond _wasn’t_ smart or trained well, but that there wasn’t something more to him.

That was neither here nor there, though. Right now, the two were off to Henry’s store to pick up some supplies. However, before Henry opened the door, he noticed a note left in between the door frame. Opening it up, he read it silently before slowly looking towards Desmond.

“Well, it seems as though you’re staying with us for a few more weeks.” He told the corgi. “Though, the Prime Minister’s dog…”

Turned out the maid thought the owner of the shop was the new dog watcher, as the original dog watcher had said they set up a replacement ( _‘she didn’t,’_ Desmond thought, _‘and she only said that because she wanted to fucking bail without consequence.’_ ). She thanked him for ‘taking care of the mutt’ and left some food and dog supplies for them. She didn’t seem to care for looking after the dog, and Henry didn’t feel all too comfortable with putting Desmond in a place where he wasn’t properly cared for. While the Disraelis were gone, Desmond would stay with Henry and the twins.

Of course, Desmond would have to figure out how to continue socializing with the assassins afterwards to get to the shroud, but he had some time to think on it. For now, he was just enjoying their company.

He couldn't help but feel like he was using them. He wasn’t, he genuinely _liked_ them; they could just help him get to the shroud.

He wished he could _talk_ to them. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel like he was lying to them.

At least he had Henry to rely on, even if he was still clueless about his true origins.

 

* * *

 

 _Technically_ the shroud hadn’t _actually_ been located, but a key had been located and Desmond took that as a win. Not to mention, Jacob had taken out the guy who invented that soothing syrup for Starrick, so things were going rather well for them. Templar influence was slowly dropping, and the shroud was going to be found.

At the same time, Desmond couldn’t help but feel worried about what exactly Jacob did. Jacob wasn’t being watched by any of them, so anything could have happened. London _wasn’t_ burning, and Darwin _wasn’t_ dead, so Jacob _probably_ didn’t mess things up that badly, right?

Still, since he went with Evie last time and since she would be busy looking over the clues to see where said key was, he decided to go with Jacob to visit this ‘Pearl Attaway’ person, owner of Attaway Transportation. You know, just to keep a close eye on Jacob.

“An enemy of my enemy is a friend of mine, Desmond.” Jacob explained to the corgi and they went into the night. “Remember that well.”

 _‘Suddenly I’ve got a_ real _bad feeling about this.’_

The crickets chirped in the dead of the night and aside from some urchins and sleazy business men making their way into nearby brothels, no one was around. Their steps against the pavement echoed in the night, Jacob’s boots producing a louder sound while Desmond’s little paws produced a much smaller sound.

It didn’t take them long to find Pearl Attaway; there had been rumors that the woman’s business was being targeted and all they had to do was follow the blazed skies. Soon enough, they found a woman in a red dress, watching the disaster unfold.

“Ms. Attaway?”

The woman turned around, looking at Jacob with wide eyes. For a moment, she seemed frightened by the man before her, but the expression turned into one of acceptance, as though she went through the five stages of grief in a mere few seconds.

“Oh, splendid,” sighed Ms. Attaway, “you’re here to murder me.”

 _‘OK, so she’s a little kooky.’_ Desmond thought. _‘Totally a normal and unsuspicious response.’_

The assassin shared a look with the corgi before he looked back at the woman. “I, uh, beg your pardon?”

The woman simply waved her hand. “No matter, everyone’s has a price.” Digging through her bag, she held out a single gold coin for him. “Is this enough?”

Jacob moved in to gently grab at her arm. She didn’t seem to struggle then either - just accepting her supposed fate. “I’m not here to kill you.” He told her, looking her straight in the eye.

That seemed to catch her off guard right away. Nonetheless, the businesswoman straightened her posture, giving off that ‘business’ vibe a woman like her needed to have. “Then, what’s your game?”

“Mr. Starrick and the Millner Company have blocked your ambition long enough,” explained Jacob with a charming, yet dangerous, smirk. “I have a business proposition for you.”

 _‘I don’t think killing off business rivals is actually a business proposition but...’_ Desmond paused his thoughts. _‘Wait, hold on, this is capitalism, this is_ totally _a business proposition.’_

Ms. Attaway was quite quiet for a minute but finally, a smile found its way onto her face. “Wonderful! Come with me; we have much to discuss, mister…”

“Jacob Frye,” introduced to the assassin with his hand stuck out, “at your service.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.”

The deal came with a handshake, and that bad feeling that came to Desmond from before only worsened at the sight before him.

 

* * *

 

“I’ve received threats against my life.” Pearl explained as Jacob took the reins of the bus and guided the horse to the destination he needed to go. “Malcolm Millner has all but waged war on me since Mr. Starrick bought out his company.”

Pearl wanted Jacob to kill someone and have him destroy a storage of Millner’s omnibuses. Of course, someone like Jacob would jump at the opportunity to do so. Desmond laid across from Pearl, brown eyes glaring right at the businesswoman. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t like where any of this was going. Pearl didn’t seem to like Desmond either and made a comment about how Jacob should keep his dog on a leash.

“He’s a harmless little thing!” Jacob called from his seat, smirking right at her. “Just a harmless dog. He couldn’t even hurt a fly.”

Ouch, _that_ hurt more than he wanted it to.

 _‘Jacob, you’re making a real bad decision by associating with her.’_ The corgi huffed. _‘But what do I know? I’m just a dog. Just a harmless dog… I’m going to eat your goddamn top hat when you’re asleep.’_

It didn’t take Jacob to find and locate one of Millner’s employees. He was a driver, driving one of the carriages, and once he figured out he was being chased, he tried to out ride them. Unfortunately for him, he had an assassin tailing after and one good aimed throwing knife was the trick to end his life.

Finding the storage yard was the next task.

The storage yard wasn’t too far away. Once they located it, they found Millner right there, and Pearl decided to leave Jacob for him to deal with it. With the help of the Rooks, they managed to do exactly that - they took out the Blighters helping Millner and found a cart of explosives, ready to be rammed into those pesky omnibuses.

With one shot of his gun, the buses were ablaze.

Jacob and Desmond eventually joined back with Pearl, the two humans watching as Millner’s storage yard was practically burned to the ground with delight sparkling in their eyes.

 _‘Is this what he meant by giving him the whole damn bottle?’_ Desmond thought as he watched the flames crackle and burn. _‘No wonder Evie worries.’_

“I can see Millner’s stock price plummeting already!” Pearl spoke with joy in her voice, turning back towards Jacob. “You’re hired.”

Pearl continued onward as she made her way to her carriage. “I have more business planned for us both.” She told Jacob with a smile, as she hopped in. “Do drop a note to my secretary to make an appointment.”

“I don’t actually work--”

Before Jacob could say anything else, the carriage was already driving away. His hand slowly dropped as he watched it drive down the street and turn the corner.

“-- Like that?”

His words fell into the silent night of London, with the crickets’ slowly fading chirps. Desmond looked up at Jacob with a disapproving frown on his face. All Jacob could do was look down at him with one of confusion with his scarred brow raised.

“What, you got something to say to me?” The only response he received from the dog was a whine. “It’s _business_ , Desmond. You would understand if you were human.”

 _‘I am human, you British idiot, and I know for a fact she’s bad fucking news.’_ Desmond thought as he started to walk away. _‘You really should start listening to your gut feeling more, dude. Might help you in the long run.’_

Then again, maybe Desmond should have taken his own advice in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact - [modern dog shows would pop up in victorian britain, around 1859, but they became a thing in london in 1862.](https://www.historyextra.com/period/victorian/the-surprising-history-of-victorian-dog-shows/) pretty nifty stuff!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prophetic dreams are only useful when they actually tell you what you need to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the dead air over here. been watching e3 conferences and just bullshitting on my personal time! and i felt like i was updating too fast, so i might just limit myself to one update a week! especially since i'm almost through with all the chapters i already have written and need to write more.
> 
> as always, enjoy!

The late night with Jacob had Desmond exhausted, physically and mentally. The only good news that came from this night was from Henry, who told Desmond that Mary Anne had requested for Desmond to stay with Henry, for there was some suspicious activity going on at their house. The police were investigating it, but Mary Anne felt better about Desmond’s safety if he was still with Henry.

Rather than go back to Henry’s shop, he decided to curl up with Jacob on the couch he slept on. Evie had taken over the bed, but the couch wasn’t too bad. Agnes knew how to make a train a second home, that’s for sure.

Jacob’s light snoring had helped ease the corgi into a sleep, and his eyes began to flutter close into dreamland…

 

Desmond didn’t dream.

Back in his time, after each Animus session, he would either dream about his ancestors’ past or dream of darkness and nothing else. He didn’t really dream much before he was abducted by Abstergo, so dreaming wasn’t something he missed greatly. But in this time, in this body, it was so much easier to drift into actual dreams.

Which made things difficult; he wasn’t sure if what he was looking at was an actual dream or something from the past or some cryptic message from Juno or Minerva or Jupiter.

This was one of those times.

Walking through an empty hallway, a dark room with himself being the only source of light bouncing off the walls, Desmond took his surroundings in. He wasn’t sure what this place was. Recreation of the inside of the Animus? Just some room his mind had made to fill the space? Whatever it was, Desmond was now walking endlessly through it, unable to find an exit, or anything at all.

What was he looking for? Was he looking for anything?

Two figures stood before him - a man and a woman of equal height, with their assassin robes covering their heads and faces. For a moment, they looked past them and right at Desmond before they looked ahead of them and began to walk down the hall. Desmond, having no other choice, decided to follow them.

Perhaps following them was the key to figuring out what the hell was going on.

His eventual answer came in the form of a dead-end - a wall standing before him, with messy writings scribbled before him. It was all written in a bright red ( his first instinct told him it was blood, but it couldn’t be; it was far too light for it to be actual blood ) and each word seemed messier than the last.

It was incoherent scribbling, he realized. But, he realized, there was one phrase that was clear as day, among the scribbling on the wall.

_**‘FOLLOW THE T W I N S AND THEN YOU WILL BE F R E E.’** _

It was, for the lack of better words, a lot to take in. He didn’t need to be told twice about who these scribblings on the wall were about - they were about the Frye twins. It was almost like they were instructions for him to follow, finally giving insight of what his purpose here even was, finally telling him what he needed to do to be himself once more.

But was any of this real, or was it just a ludicrous dream he was having?

He was stuck at a crossroad.

A bright light flashing before him was the last thing Desmond had seen, before he opened his eyes to the London sun peeking through the train’s windows.

 

* * *

 

Last night’s dream was fresh in his mind the next morning when he awoke to Jacob almost pushing him off the bed in his sleep.

It wasn’t something he could easily forget, like most dreams or even a memory, so maybe it was a message from someone. Maybe Minerva was trying to reach out to him one last time, using any sort of power she had left in the physical world. Maybe it was Jupiter doing it instead.

Maybe Juno just really liked seeing him squirm and wanted to see if he could actually do something, instead of being a puppet for people to play with.

From what the writings on the wall said, Desmond was here for a reason, related to the twins he had gotten to know. But there were a few problems with him being here - just _what_ could he possibly accomplish? He was a bartending assassin - and he wasn’t even _that_ good of an assassin in human form.

_‘What am I going to do,’_ thought the corgi as he closed his eyes once Jacob started to scratch his scalp as they waited for Evie to get ready, _‘mix the Rooks a martini?’_

He would have trouble sleeping the next new nights; the dream repeated itself to him, every time he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

The next few days were figuring out where the clues from the Kenway house would lead them. Once again, Evie insisted that Jacob stick around instead of going out to cause more chaos as she and Henry looked things over once more. Desmond sat next to the male twin on the couch and when he looked over at him, he could see the annoyance in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was from not being able to go out, or…

_‘I mean,’_ Desmond patted the couch cushion in thought, _‘twins are twins and all, but I don’t even think_ twins _get jealous over someone spending time with the other twin. Maybe there’s something more…’_

His gaze darted between Jacob and his line of sight. He was looking over at Henry with annoyance, like a child who was getting ignored by someone they wanted attention from. Except it wasn't as simple as that; there was longing in Jacob's eyes, a look that the corgi knew pretty well during shifts at Bad Weather, where he would do some people watching and watch couples make those kinds of eyes at each other. Desmond’s gaze shifted between the two before he finally sat up in surprise.

Oh.

_Oh._

_‘So, it’s like that, huh? Wonder if Jacob realizes it.’_ He laid back down on the couch. _‘Oh well, I’m sure he’ll come to terms with it eventually. Pretty sure I was around his age when I realized it too. I mean, I’m not that much older than him, but--’_

In the middle of his reflection on life and people he’s dated, Jacob had thrown a ball right in the direction of Henry and Evie and without any question, Desmond went after it. The two assassins almost tripped over the poor corgi as he went to retrieve it. The elder twin threw a glare in Jacob’s direction, which was met with an innocent grin.

“ _Jacob_!”

“What?” The younger twin feigned innocence. “A small accident. I wasn’t looking where I was throwing.”

Desmond brought the ball back to him, though he couldn’t help but growl at him a little. _‘You used me… for sabotaging relationships.’_

Henry cleared his throat. “Well, you’ll be happy to know that you won’t be cooped up in here anymore. We found where the clues lead to. Why don’t you join Evie?”

“Finally,” grumbled the assassin as he sat up, “I was starting to get bored over here.”

 

* * *

 

The pair hopped from roof to roof, with Desmond following close behind. He surprised himself with how much knowledge he was able to retain from his human body; parkouring wasn’t too bad, even with his tiny legs. He had no trouble keeping up with the Frye twins, which he was thankful for.

The Frye twins, too, noticed this.

“Maybe Greenie is right about Desmond not being a normal dog.” Jacob mumbled to himself.

“Don’t be foolish,” countered Evie but even she was having trouble figuring out an excuse until she said, “he may have just trained well, as I said before.”

The younger twin rolled his eyes at that but said nothing. Arguing with Evie was pointless, because she always thought she was right since she was four minutes older than him. Desmond had heard it during a drunken night at the pub. The two really complained about each other and it was starting to worry him a little. If the twins drifted so apart, something bad could happen.

_‘Maybe I’m just getting too caught up in their family affairs.’_ Desmond thought as he sat down on the rooftop with the twins. _‘Not like I could give any advice. Dad and I got on better terms, but we still didn’t see eye to eye.’_

What a somber feeling. Not that Bill was even close to being the world’s greatest dad ( or even the world’s _okayest_ dad ) but they were starting to get somewhere, even if they didn’t see eye to eye yet. He wanted him home, which meant he must have forgave him for running away. Maybe his own broken relationship with his only family had him hope that the Frye’s wouldn’t split so easily. Maybe he could help them out, or something.

This is what the dreamt meant, didn’t it? Their relationship was falling apart, and it was up to Desmond to help them.

Oh, great, he was sent here to play family therapist when he barely had a good relationship with his own family! Not to mention, he was stuck in the body of a dog! What good would he do?!

“So,” Jacob’s voice broke Desmond away from his thoughts, “the ‘hints’ you found in the Kenway house lead to… the monument.”

His grin caused Evie to roll her eyes in annoyance. “What a _wonderful_ use of your time, following me around and asking such obvious questions.”

_‘Man, these two really can’t go one fucking minute without quarreling.’_ And Desmond couldn’t say anything about it, because dogs can’t talk. He really was resenting Scooby-Doo more and more.

“Well, since _Henry_ isn’t here, I thought you might enjoy the company.” Jacob shrugged his shoulders, smiling even more when his twin sister huffed a little.

_‘Oh, good, bring up your mutual shared crush on Greenie.’_ The corgi laid down, covering his face with his paw. _‘Because_ that’ll _make everything better. Had it not been for the laws of this land, I think Evie would have pushed you off the roof.’_

“I don’t require any company,” said Evie calmly or as best as calmly as she could be, “and Mr. Green is following up on leads of his own; you would know that if you _listened_.”

The beginnings of her lecture were ignored as Jacob slid right up next to her. “Oh yes, Mr. Green,” he began in a mocking tone, “that’s a _fascinating_ idea, Mr. Green!”

_‘Oh, Mr. Tea and Crumpets,’_ warned Desmond, _‘don’t do it.’_

Unfortunately, Jacob wasn’t a mind reader and he continued his charade. “Please, come and take a look at this book and stand _oh so_ closely next to me, Mr. Green!”

_‘Oh my god.’_

The woman's fingers curled into a fist, grimacing as she tried to calm herself down. “I do not--” She began to counter, but she couldn’t even admit that he was wrong. She enjoyed Henry’s company far too often. She calmed herself down, directing her attention back at her brother. “Perhaps _you_ have nothing better to do, but _I_ am busy protecting the Assassins.”

The younger twin raised his brow. “Are you really?” He asked with skepticism in his voice. He then hummed a little in thought. “What was it that father used to say…?”

Closing her eyes, the female assassin let out a defeated sigh. “Don’t allow personal feelings to compromise the mission.”

_‘And both of you did a terrible job at following that rule.’_

“Precisely,” chuckled Jacob as he leaned in. “Anyway, I’m off. If I find any more wild geese for you to chase, I’ll be in touch.” He turned around and gave Evie’s back a quick pat before going off to God knows where. Desmond thought about following him, but he figured the other assassin might need some back up.

“It will be all the more pleasant for your absence,” mumbled the more responsible twin. She looked over at Desmond with a sigh. “It looks like it will just be us two, for now.”

The dog nodded his head and Evie crouched onto his level. The two continued to listen to the speech that was going on, as they looked for a clear opening they could sneak by in without getting caught. There was a decent sized crowd in front; they could easily blend in.

“He always does that,” began Evie. Desmond looked up at her curiously. “Always tries to make a joke of my feelings. I don’t understand why he’s so focused on my friendship with Henry. Even as children, he was never this overprotective of me.”

_‘I think it’s less about you and more about his own feelings, but maybe that’s getting mixed in with the_ ‘brotherly-instinct’ _too.’_ Desmond let out a soft whine. _‘Poor guy. Poor Evie.’_

All the corgi could do was lift his paw and gently pat her leg, to which the woman simply smiled and ruffled his fur.

“I suppose being a dog must be easy,” mused Evie as she stood up and looked back onto the crowd, “you don’t have to worry about relationships.”

Desmond was silent at that. Not even a bark or a whine. Evie didn’t seem to notice, though, as she dropped down from the roof. The corgi watched and shook his head, before jumping down into the assassin’s arms, still quiet as ever.

_‘If only’_ , thought Desmond as the memory of a blonde, blue eyed woman and a blonde, blue eyed male flashed into his mind. Both Lucy and Clay had been people he trusted, people who seemed to understand him - and they were both _gone_ because of _him_.

If only he had it as easy as Evie believed he did.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Run-in's with Templars are always chaotic, Desmond has come to realize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm honestly running out of things to say in the beginning! aside from i finally got another update out! my upload schedule is so inconsistent, sorry about that! bit of a short chapter this time around, though i'm pretty sure the next one should be a lot longer.
> 
> anyway, enjoy!

Desmond forgot how brutal assassins can be.

Except he didn’t _really_ forget but watching Evie in action reminds him that being soft-hearted doesn’t get you far in this business. It might be why Henry stays behind and commits himself to research; Evie may like researching as well but she’s as brutal and chaotic as Jacob is.

Watching her cause confusion to the nearby policemen and have them beat each other with their own weapons served as a good reminder how similar the twins are, even if their methods are different. Truly, Evie was brutal in her stealth while Jacob was brutal in his confrontation.

The documents had lead the two to St Paul's Cathedral. So, not exactly the monument like Jacob said, but it was a clue to where the key really was. Still, running alongside Evie to the Cathedral was pretty nice, Desmond had to admit. Hell, it felt good to actually run through history, even if this body wasn’t his. It wasn’t like the Animus, where he was just reliving memories.

The air through his fur was real, the smells he smelt were real, the sounds he heard were real - it was all actually _real_ and not a simulation, not a trick of his mind.

 _‘Feels nice to actually do something with myself,’_ thought Desmond as they turned the corner.

Once they reached the Cathedral, the two managed to find their way inside of the vault. Evie placed Desmond down on the floor and looked around the small room. Olive green eyes flashed to the dusty desk, where a necklace laid atop of it. The corgi’s eyes followed her gaze, letting out a happy sounding bark at their discovery.

 _‘Hell yeah!’_ He pranced right up to the desk with Evie, who placed the necklace on her neck to admire it. _‘Key successfully found! Now, all we gotta do is find the actual fucking thing and celebrate!’_

“Good day, Miss Frye,” called out a feminine sounding voice, “I’ll be taking that.”

Celebration postponed - _again_.

The dog and woman looked over to the entrance, where Lucy Thorne stood with her hands behind her back. She began to walk around them, a threatening look glimmering in her eyes. Desmond growled at her, already in attack mode. Evie, as well, stayed on her guard as she glared at the other woman. She mimicked Lucy’s movements, her eyes never leaving her.

“You,” began the female assassin, “want the Shroud to cement your own power - but what if you can’t control it?”

 _‘Aw fuck, I forgot about that.'_ The corgi bitterly thought. The idea that he couldn't control the power was one he really hadn't considered; there was a strong possibility that this body of his couldn't handle all of that power. _'Man, I might be screwed myself. No, no - it's_ fine _. You'll be able to use it. You've taken a chance with death before, so why not one more chance?’_

“And why do _you_ want the shroud?” Lucy asked as she stood in front of one of the windows in the building. “Merely to keep the Templars from having it? How like an Assassin - to hold the power of eternal life, and yet be too afraid to use it.”

Evie stopped in her tracks and narrowed her gaze at Lucy. The shroud was powerful, indeed, but who in the world would ever want eternal life? Only those who wished to control the people, to be around for a long time to do so. Of course, Templars would want such an item.

“Perhaps you intend to use it as a decorative item for your _smart little dog_ over here.” Lucy’s gaze drifted towards Desmond. “Whatever you’re doing to train him, you’re doing it well. I was hearing my Blighters say something about a dog in the Kenway mansion tripping them up and almost breaking their necks.”

The corgi’s growls grew louder, but Miss Thorne simply laughed at the sight. Of course, she would, he’s a goddamn corgi, not some bulldog used to scare people. Evie stepped in front of Desmond, ignoring the comments about the dog and instead focusing on what she had said before.

“Eternal life - is that what you think the Shroud offers?”

“What _I_ think,” sneered Lucy, “is no longer _your_ concern.”

And with that, the two women launched at each other to begin a brawl. Desmond raced towards the wall, pinning himself against it as the two women threw fists at each other. He had no idea if Lucy was armed or not, but he knew Evie was vastly armed and could easily end this fight. Still, in such a small room, there was little time to get any distance to grab a weapon.

 _‘Gotta think, gotta help…’_ Desmond inched towards the women. _‘I’m not going to sit around anymore!’_

He looked over at the nearest window before directing his gaze back at the two women. If he could direct Evie towards it, then perhaps they could knock her right out. A brutal thought, but it was better than a Templar getting the key to the shroud. The corgi let out a bark to alert the female assassin.

Blocking Lucy’s next punch and pushing her away, she glanced over to where Desmond was, who began to tap his paw in an impatient manner. Olive green eyes looked over at the window and then back at Lucy.

She knew what to do.

The red haired woman let out a frustrated scream and charged at Evie. The female assassin did her best to step out of the way in time, but clothed fingers managed to grab at the key around her neck. Desmond raced in front of Lucy, allowing the back of her heel to meet his body and trip over him. With Lucy’s fingers wrapped around the necklace, she tried to bring Evie down with her, but the other woman’s hands grabbed at the sides of the window, her feet sliding against the floor, however. The corgi raced back behind Evie and bit at her pant leg, trying his absolute best to drag her back.

Lucy hung from the key around Evie’s neck, as both Desmond and Evie tried their best to hang inside the Cathedral.

“Coming with me?”

The assassin’s hidden blade was out in a flash, and the sharp steel slid along the necklace that held the key.

“I have other plans.” Evie retorted. Desmond pulled her back as Evie forcefully brought herself up after cutting the connection between her and the Templar woman. She coughed and pressed her back against the wall, a hand coming up to her neck. Gasping for air, she quickly raced back to the window, looking down to see if Lucy’s body was there. Desmond hopped up, his front paws on the windowsill as he looked down.

Lucy Thorne’s body had vanished.

Evie cursed under her breath, panting gently as her eyes scanned the area. She looked back at the corgi, letting out another breath.

“I think you might have saved my life.” The female twin smiled at the small pup. “I’ll have Henry give you some extra scraps tonight as a reward.”

Desmond barked in response, prompting a soft laugh from the assassin. She walked away from the window, though the corgi couldn’t help but look out the window first. He looked down at the ground with his eagle vision; there were no traces of footprints at all.

_‘Alright, new rule - don’t think about celebrating, like, ever.’_


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hijacking a police carriage with a shady business man locked inside of it and stealing some engines might as well be a normal Tuesday for assassins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> early update because i kind of couldn't wait any longer. updates will probably be slow from now on due to the fact i'm reaching the end of what i already have written up and i gotta write some more. just wanted to say thanks for the comments so far! even if i don't answer all of them ( sometimes i never know how to respond ), i do appreciate them a lot!

“I need to borrow Desmond.”

Running into Jacob wasn’t a part of the plan going home, but somehow the twins ended up finding each other. Now, whether Evie wanted that or not was another question; she still seemed sore about Jacob’s words from earlier and to be honest, Desmond couldn’t blame her.

“What are you planning?” Evie asked cautiously.

“Simply business, Evie,” was all Jacob said and that alone was a worrying thought.

Still, after the fight from before and on top of losing the key she didn’t seem to have the energy to argue that much, nor did she have the time to. “I’ll be back on the train with Mr. Green.” She said and began to walk away, not before looking back at the two. “Do try and get home safely for the sake of my health.”

“Oh, _sweet sister_ ,” grinned Jacob, “I didn’t know you cared about me so much.”

“As your elder sister, I do not wish to scrape your corpse from the roads _brother dearest_ ,” retorted Evie. “I know it’s near impossible but _do_ try and keep yourself out of trouble.”

As quick as the grin came, it had faded away and Evie began to walk away from the man and the corgi. Desmond looked up at Jacob with a smug look on his face, and Jacob simply returned the look with a pout of his own.

“Don’t get cocky just because you can’t talk.”

 _‘Yeah,’_ snorted Desmond, _‘and because of that, I don’t fuck shit up. You should try it some time.’_

“Anyway,” began the male assassin as he dug up something from his pocket and held it out to the dog. “I need you to pick up on this scent.”

It was a business card. Brown eyes scanned the words written on it. Ned Wynert - who the _hell_ was Ned? If Shaun was here, he would probably know, but that’s because he’s obsessed with his homeland and probably eats beans on toast like everyone else here. But that has neither here nor there, and Desmond sniffed the card thoroughly before sniffing around the ground, leading the way.

Jacob placed the card back in his pocket and followed Desmond. “We have another job from Ms. Attaway and we need to find him.” He sighed when his words were met with a sneer. “I _know_ you don’t like her, but we need to do this. Starrick’s influence must come down.”

Desmond simply gave a grunt and went back to sniffing, but Jacob wasn’t finished. “ _Evie_ does nothing except try and find that bloody stupid shroud. Meanwhile _I’m_ taking out templars left and right, and yet she _still_ has the gall to say that I don’t do anything.”

Stubbornly and like a child, he kicked at a nearby rock and watched it skip down the street.

“She believes herself to be the smart one,” ended Jacob quietly, “all because of a measly four minutes, and other people agree with her.”

Ah, so _that’s_ what a lot of it was. Resentment, not towards Evie particularly but through their birth order. Jacob was getting tired of being in Evie’s shadow. It’s understandable; Desmond himself remembered what it was like to be compared towards Bill at such a young age. It didn’t help that because he ran away, he wasn’t nearly as skilled as Bill, so the idea of being sneered at for being ‘not good enough’ was one he didn’t want to tread on so much. It was the same with Jacob - no one wanted to give him the time or day because Evie was the older one, so why should they?

As Jacob ranted, Desmond had to admit that he understood where Jacob was coming from in terms of why he did the things he did. Sitting around and looking for a shroud while there were several Templars out and about did seem a little unfair in the numbers - especially since it seemed like there were only three assassins in London. The Rooks were great, but assassins they were not. It was better to even out the playing field a little bit.

His lack of being able to talk was starting to frustrate him. Evie and Jacob were too stubborn to realize this and as great as Henry was, he knew little about the twins and how they acted with each other. Sure, Desmond knew very little too, but he wasn’t an idiot like most people thought. It was clear as day - the two needed each other, they worked better together.

_‘Ugh, once I’m a human again, I’m giving these two a piece of my goddamn mind.’_

 

* * *

 

Finding Ned wasn’t too much trouble at all. Turned out he was locked away in a police carriage, because he was a thief. Desmond wasn’t really surprised at that outcome, considering Jacob described him as a little shady ( but he had a smile on his face, so he clearly wasn't bothered by it ). At the very least, they managed to locate him.

Unfortunately, they were surrounded by police and instead of being as discrete about it as possible, Jacob decided to make a big show of it while hijacking the police carriage. From inside of it, Ned had yelled at Jacob and the two had a fun little exchange back and forth.

It _would_ have been funny, but police were chasing them with _guns_ , so funny it was not. Trying to hold on for dear life was almost impossible to do without thumbs, so Desmond had to opt for sinking his teeth into the cloth of Jacob’s pants to not fling out of the carriage.

 _‘The things I do to not die.’_ A pause in his thought. _‘Again.’_

Jacob steered the horse attached to the carriage around the corner and skid them to a stop once they were safe. Jacob and Desmond hopped out of the carriage, with the assassin picking the lock of the carriage and swinging the doors open. There, Ned leaned forward to try and slow his heart rate down a little ( because driving with Jacob Frye was something _no one_ would want to wish on their own enemies ) before he lifted his head and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“So,” breathed Ned as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, “whataya want, Frye?”

_‘Straight to the point. I like him.’_

Said Frye simply laughed in response. “What makes you so sure I want something? Perhaps I saved you out of the _kindness_ of my own heart.”

Ned shared that laughter, giving him a knowing look. A warm smile washed over Jacob’s face as he reached over to help the still-handcuffed Ned out of the carriage with an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

“Come on, let me tell you about the job.”

Desmond watched the interaction between the two, following right behind them. He glanced between the two before letting out a knowing, quiet grunt.

_‘Yeah, he’s into dudes too.’_

 

* * *

 

“ _Get a move on, Frye_!”

Finding Millner’s internal combustion engines wasn’t too much of a problem after that but of course, getting them wasn’t too easy. Blighters protected and surrounded the area, as though they were anticipating their arrival. To be fair, though, with how Jacob was tearing up the streets rescuing Ned, it’s no wonder they were prepared for them.

As Jacob searched the crates and detach the reinforcement wagons, he ordered Desmond to stay behind and be a guard dog for Ned. Not that he was all that intimidating, but it’s the thought that counted. You wouldn’t want your business partner to _die_ suddenly, would you?

Hopefully the watchdog duties would be quiet as they waited for Jacob to come back, with little action going on for them.

Unfortunately, Desmond was never a lucky person - not as a human and certainly not as a dog.

A pair of Blighters were trying to make their way over to the cart, ready to knock Ned’s kneecaps right out of him.

“ _Shit_ ,” mumbled Ned as he looked around for a weapon to use. The Rooks with them had started to make their way towards the Blighters to intercept them, but a few had made it onto the cart that the businessman and corgi were on.

 _‘Man, I never catch a break, do I?’_ Desmond sighed as he got in front of Ned, growling viciously at the Blighters.

One of them let out a laugh at the sight. “Ha! What’s a puny, weak dog going to do? I could easily fling it off this train!” The second Blighter laughed with him.

 _‘Your words aren’t going to hurt,’_ thought the corgi as he backed up and went into a proper attack stance, _‘because my self-esteem is already at rock fucking bottom.’_

Before the intimidating man could react, he leapt at the Blighter’s leg, sinking his teeth into his ankle. The Blighter let out a string of curses and raised the pipe to try and bash the dog’s head in, but Desmond was quick on his feet. His little legs jumped out of the way just as the pipe came down, the steel hitting the floor of the train.

Before he could pull it up, Ned quickly dove in, swinging a pipe he managed to locate right into the Blighter’s face. The gang man stumbled back, unaware that the dog he was trying to hit was standing behind him, ready to trip him over with his own body. The man fell right off the train, his body flinging right onto the ground. That was going to leave quite a few broken bones and bruises.

The second Blighter was suddenly feeling intimidated now and looked around for a place to escape. Unfortunately for him, the last thing he saw was the American and a corgi, as a hidden blade came from behind and slit his throat. Red poured from his neck and he dropped the two ground, lifeless. Once he knew it was safe, Ned discarded the pipe by dropping it on the train's floor and Desmond's stance reverted back to a calmer state. After glancing down at the body for a minute, the assassin looked over at the two.

“You two alright?” Jacob asked as he kicked the body away. Ned let out both a breath of relief and one of annoyance.

“It’s bad enough I owe _you_ a favor; I’m not owing any favors to a _dog_ ,” mumbled the businessman as he looked over at Desmond, who simply sat there with a smug look on his face. “Seriously, what are you and your sister teaching him?”

“Wish I could tell you myself,” retorted Jacob as he glanced over at Desmond. The corgi was still glowing blue in his eagle vision. The first time wasn’t a mistake at all.

Desmond was really something else. What he was, though, was still something he was trying to figure out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partnerships always come to an end if one's not careful enough. They usually don't end in betrayal, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a late update because i needed a quick break from writing! kinda wrote myself tired, but i'm working on future chapters now!
> 
> anyway, holy crap this fic has over 100 kudos? i didn't expect it to even get over 50 to be honest! thank you all so much for liking this silly fic! i appreciate it a lot!

The internal combustion engine. The end of horse-drawn transportation. It was like gazing into the future.

Or, well, that’s what Jacob said, at least. Desmond was well aware of what an engine was, being from the 21st century and all. It was weird seeing something so modern in a time like this. It was as though he was viewing history happening in real time and to be honest, it was kind of fascinating! It was like being in the Animus all over again and at the same time, it was such a different feeling.

The two men and dog peered into the crate where the engine laid, their prize for all the hard work they’ve managed to get done.

“And what is the going rate of the future, do you think?” Ned sighed whimsically as he gripped his hands on the opening side of the wooden crate.

_‘Enough to feed a family of forty-five in this period?’_ Desmond thought as he stood up on his hind legs and peered into the crate. _‘What? I’m hungry. It’s been a long ass day.’_

“Oh, we’re not selling them.” Ned’s crusher of dreams said as he handed the paper to the thief.

Ned rolled his eyes; he knew that was coming but he didn’t want to accept it so easily. Fixing his glasses, his eyes darted across the words written on them before looking up at Jacob with a quizzical look.

“You’re giving them to your contact?”

“You’ll be paid all the same.”

“Who is this _Pearl_ anyway?” The other male asked, the quizzical look still fixated on his face as he looked down at the piece of paper again. “How long have you been working with her?”

Though Ned was someone who asked little questions with his line of work, aside from when and how much he was getting paid, it was clear that he was a little suspicious of this whole ordeal. Frye was a good guy too and he and his sister had already helped him out a ton, so he couldn’t help but worry about him from time to time.

_‘Finally, a man with some common sense.’_ Desmond whined in the thief’s direction. _‘Please, Ned, tell him he’s being ridiculous and too trusting!’_

“She’s a business partner,” huffed the assassin, “and that’s _all_ you need to know.”

For a moment, Ned thought about arguing a little more but to Desmond’s dismay, all he did was shrug his shoulders and hold his hands up as he gave a sympathetic grin. To be fair, it wasn’t his job to lecture a contact; Frye may have been an uncommon contact, but he was still one nonetheless. He did look over at Desmond for a minute, seeing as the dog didn’t seem so fond at the mention of Pearl.

“Your dog doesn’t seem to be too thrilled about your contact.” Ned did, however, point that fact out. “You know, they say that dogs can sense if someone has good intentions or not. Maybe you should keep that in mind.”

“What, do you expect me to listen to a dog about what kinda people I meet?” The Rooks’ leader laughed at first but stopped when the corgi gave him a headbutt in the leg. “ _Oi_ , watch it, Desmond!”

Again, the thief just shrugged his shoulders and decided not to elaborate on it. If Frye didn’t want to take his advice, then that was fine. He could always learn from the experience, though. For now, they had business to conduct and payments to make.

 

* * *

 

“Jacob, darling!” Pearl greeted happily as Jacob made his way into the carriage. Her smile faded when her eyes drifted towards Desmond. “Oh, I see you brought your dog with you.”

The corgi didn’t exactly like that, letting out a low growl. With his thumb and pointer finger, Jacob wrapped them around Desmond’s muzzle to try and shush him up a little.

“Ignore him,” smiled Jacob as he closed the carriage door. Nodding her head and telling him to join her in celebration, Pearl grabbed two glasses and began to pour champagne into Jacob’s glass before her own. “To our fruitful partnership.”

“And to the shiny new engines now in my possession!”

_‘And to me,’_ thought Desmond as he laid his head down, _‘who’s going to be proven right when this kooky lady poisons your drink.’_

The glasses clunk together in celebration as both drank from it. Jacob downing it in one gulp while Pearl simply sipped hers. Swallowing, the businesswoman nodded her head and shifted a little in her seat.

“Back to business,” started the woman. “Millner’s fled to the Thames - occupied with securing his ferry. It’s all he has left in his possession.”

Jacob hummed in response. “Protecting it with his life, no doubt.”

“The very thing I want you to take - _just kill him_!”

The grin she had on her face was a wicked one, with a matching wicked twinkle in her eye and a menacing sounding laugh left her lips. Desmond lifted his head, eyebrows furrowing at what she just said. Oh, great, so she was off her rocker a tad. Even Jacob looked a little bewildered at the tone shift.

_‘Come on, Jacob!’_ Desmond silently pleaded as he looked up at Jacob. _‘Think of what Wynert said! You know, something about listening to your dog because dogs are good at reading people?’_

“That’s not your first glass of champagne, is it?”

_‘Oh,_ good _, we’re_ fucked _. She’ll have us take him out and then take us out next.’_

Pearl laughed a little. “Success is more intoxicating than alcohol, Mr. Frye.”

The assassin returned her laugh with a grin of his own and handed the glass back to her. “Then save a glass for me.” Opening the door, he picked Desmond up and jumped out of the carriage. The corgi tried to wiggle out of his grasp, not wanting to be held by a certain Frye twin now.

_‘I should have just stuck with Evie.’_ He thought to himself as he lowered his head in shame.

 

* * *

 

“Why are you so mad at me? I told you - this is _business_. You’d understand it if you were human.”

Desmond pretended to ignore Jacob as he walked in front of him. For a dog, he sure did have a clear look of disapproval on his face and the assassin picked up on it the minute he set him down. Really, Desmond thought that maybe Jacob was better than this. OK, so he didn’t have any _proof_ that Pearl was bad news, in fact she just seemed like an average business partner and they were on their way to kill a Templar, but there was something itching at Desmond that partnering with Pearl was just bad news. Maybe because _all_ rich business owners were _always_ bad news, some way or another.

He didn’t have a lot of time to reflect, as his path was blocked by Jacob. The corgi looked up at him, still glaring at him as best as he could. The glare was met with one of his own.

“Oh, great,” huffed Jacob, “not only do I have an older sister who berates me, I now know a damn dog who does so too.”

Resentment was in his voice, Desmond recognized it well. He went to go around Jacob, but the male had blocked his path once more. It seemed like he had a lot more to say - to a dog, which probably didn’t make him look sane, but luckily no one was around in the alleyway they were in.

“You know, I’m actually doing something instead of sitting around and looking for a bloody piece of cloth!” Jacob continued with his rant. “Unlike Evie, _I’m_ actually taking down Templars instead of waiting like a damn sitting duck. She goes on, saying how _she’s_ protecting the Assassins, when she hasn’t done squat and--”

He paused his rant and buried his face in his hand. “Oh, bloody hell, I’m arguing with a _dog_.”

For a moment, Desmond’s hardened gaze seemed to soften a little. This was all too familiar to him. Doing things for a certain family member and not getting any kind of praising words and only getting berating remarks thrown at your face - it was all clear to Desmond. Maybe that’s why Jacob chose to work with Attaway; she gave him the satisfaction he wanted.

_‘I guess I kinda was harsh on him,’_ though Desmond as he lifted his paw, gently placing it on Jacob’s leg to try and comfort him, _‘but I just don’t want him to get hurt.’_

The corgi whined a little, causing Jacob’s own hardened gaze to soften a little. He sighed, squatting so he could pet Desmond’s head.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to yell.” He apologized as he ruffled Desmond’s fur a little. “This will be the last job I do with her, I promise. Won’t really need to do anything else with her when Millner’s dead.”

The corgi simply barked in response and wagged his tail. He still didn’t like going along with this but like Evie, Jacob’s a man of his word. This is their last job with her and then they would be finished. He just hoped they both could get out of this unscraped.

 

* * *

 

The sabotage had gone according to plan. Jacob took out blighters, destroyed everything Millner worked hard for, the usual schtick. He used dynamite that was laying around to blow it all to pieces, Desmond watching as it all burnt to crisp. When he was satisfied with that - like a predator - he went after Millner when he was drawn out.

Jumping from boat to boat, the assassin had caught up with Millner, using his fists and cane sword to beat him to a bloody pulp, before his hidden blades had finished the job for him. All in all, it was successful, right? It should be something worth celebrating.

“I knew this day would come,” Millner said, not a hint of fear in his tone, “Mr. Starrick was furious I had lost the engines. So, this is my comeuppance…”

“ _Pearl Attaway_ led me to you, not _Starrick_.” The Rooks’ leader said, confusion in his tone.

“Then they’re working together again. I should never have come between Mr. Starrick and Miss Attaway.” Millner choked out, looking up at Jacob with almost dead, black eyes. “Family always stay together, in the end.”

Snarling, Jacob grabbed a hold of Millner’s shirt. “What do you mean they’re _family_?!”

But he wouldn’t get his answer. The only thing he received was a cold, dead hand gripping on his wrist and then, nothing. The assassin looked at the body before him, an unreadable expression on his face. No, it wasn’t unreadable - it was confusion and hurt, a look Desmond had known well.

It just wasn’t one he had seen on Jacob, ever.

The walk from the Thames was quiet and eerie after that, so unlike Jacob’s usual demeanor. It made Desmond feel weird and uncomfortable. He wanted Jacob to say something funny or stupid - _anything_ to get out of this foreign mood.

But he didn’t, and the mood was still dark and suffocating around them.

Desmond simply followed Jacob, knowing full well that he was out looking for blood now - Pearl’s blood, specifically. It was clear that being used and lied to was something the gang leader didn’t like, and the corgi made a mental note of that.

It didn’t take them long to locate Attaway. In fact, she was right with the person Millner was talking about - Crawford Starrick, in the flesh. It was Desmond’s first time seeing the man that the twins and Henry were constantly talking about.

_‘Man, this guy looks like he leapt off the pages of a Sherlock Holmes novel and he’s the main culprit.’_ Desmond thought before quieting himself down to listen to them.

“-- I was certain he knew I belonged to the order and was there to end me.” Pearl’s voice echoed through the halls her and Starrick walked through. Jacob leaned in, trying to get every word they were saying. “Imagine my delight when he told me his true purpose. An _Assassin_ helping the _Templar_ cause, isn’t that delicious?”

“It’s sickening,” commented Starrick with disgust.

“It’s business, cousin,” retorted Pearl, the same words Jacob had used on Desmond. “Look at the big picture - with Millner gone, I own the only omnibus company left in London.”

Starrick wasn’t convinced.

“You glower too much, cousin. You will get your engines back.” The businesswoman waved her hand at his disappointment in her. “Our new motorized buses will bring us both a lot of money.”

“I’ll need to arrange proper transport for the engines to get back to my factory.” mumbled Starrick as he fixed the leather gloves upon his hands. “I want you at Waterloo, personally, to ensure nothing goes wrong.”

“Of course,” nodded Pearl with a smile. “May the Father of Understanding guide us.”

“Today and in all of our future endeavors, cousin.”

With that, the two walked down the hallway once more, leaving the assassin and dog to digest what they had said. Desmond couldn’t believe it! Actually, he could since this is what he was saying all along, but to think that Pearl was a Templar? He knew she was shady business, but he didn’t think she would be this shady.

The corgi almost felt like gloating his victory, but one look at Jacob’s face caused him to consider otherwise. There was a look of hurt and anger on his face - anger at his own nativity, perhaps. Wincing, he opened his eyes and frowned, looking ahead of him and not even glancing at Desmond.

“Waterloo Station.” Jacob mumbled, pushing himself off the wall and to his escape. Desmond watched him leave, looking down at the floor and letting out a sigh.

_‘Why does celebrating always lead to bad luck?’_


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's never a dull day in their lives because of Jacob Frye. Desmond didn't expect having to save modern medicine, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this fic becoming the roast of jacob frye? i try not to do it too much but to be fair, he did fuck up a lot.
> 
> ( don't worry, evie will get her share of roasting in the near future )
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading as usual! just noticed this fic got over 1k hits, so thank you for checking it out! i appreciate it. i'll probably get to comments sometime this week, both new and old. thanks for being patient.

“-- And he drops Desmond off and suddenly runs away, despite it being late at night!” Evie’s voice echoed through the train as she paced back and forth through the train. Well, paced wasn’t the word to use; the female assassin was stomping through the halls, in obvious anger at her reckless brother.

“He didn’t say where he was goin’?” Agnes asked as she peered through the doorway.

“Of course not!” Evie threw her hands up in frustration. “Why would he even think of telling his sister where he was going? That would be _too_ much work for Jacob Frye, leader of the Rooks!”

Desmond laid on the couch, watching Evie continue her rough pacing, shaking his head. She probably thinks that he’s ran off to do something reckless and stupid. Well, she was somewhat right about the reckless part, but he wasn’t going out to cause harm for no good reason.

_‘If he can kill Attaway, then he can get the engines back and kill off a Templar, which is good for us.’_ The corgi thought to himself, sitting up straight. _‘But… I can see where Evie’s coming from. It wouldn’t have hurt to say something, Jacob.’_

Agnes drummed her fingers along the desk. “I’ll stay ‘ere and keep watch for ‘im, Miss Frye. Could be back any minute, but you said you ‘ad somewhere to be too. Wouldn’t want you t’delay yourself any longer.”

“Thank you. Agnes,” sighed the assassin as she rubbed her temples a bit. “I’m sorry to make you stay up longer than you need to.”

“Bertha’s done for the day, so it’s no skin off my bones!” The conductor waved her hand with a smile, to affirm that the assassin didn’t need to worry about her. She had dealt with later nights with Kaylock. ‘Always made me walk home, he did’ was what Agnes said that first late night she had with the twins, and that alone made them decide to call for a carriage for the older woman should they ever need to.

“When I get back, I’ll arrange a carriage to bring you home.” Evie nodded her head before looking at Desmond. “I know you have been running around all day, but some assistance would be nice.”

The corgi simply gave a bark and jumped down from the couch. The two gave a quick goodbye to Agnes before stepping off the train. True to her word, Bertha wasn’t going anywhere, as it was done for the day, so they didn’t need to worry about finding it.

The two began to walk, silently for a minute. It was clear that Evie had something on her mind, looking down at Desmond when he began to whine, to ask what was wrong.

“I want to check on Lambeth to see how it is doing.” She said with a hum. “After the death of Dr. John Elliotson… I don’t know, I have a feeling something is wrong.”

More than likely, Evie wanted to investigate the area and see if there’s something else that needs to be done. Desmond was the perfect candidate for helping, seeing as Henry went back to the shop for the night.

_‘It’ll be a little less chaotic than running around with Jacob.’_ Desmond thought as he hoped with each step, doing his best to keep up with Evie. _‘But, to be honest, I kind of have a bad feeling about this too…’_

He hoped the feeling in his stomach was just from hunger.

 

* * *

 

There’s something spooky about hospitals late at night, Desmond concluded as the two slowed their pace in front of the Lambeth Asylum. He’s not sure what, though; maybe it was the atmosphere that was created by the stillness of the night and the faintly lit streetlights that surrounded the area. Also, all spooky stuff tends to happen around hospitals and Desmond's fondness of late night horror movie watching reminded him of that. The eeriness of a lightly lit doorway and the crickets’ chirps echoing through the quiet night didn't help that feeling in his gut he had earlier either.

Desmond didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as Evie suddenly stopped in her tracks. The corgi also stopped in his tracks, peering over her to see what had made her stop so suddenly.

“Clara?”

The familiar figure in the doorway turned around to face the assassin. Clara O’Dea was a friend of Henry and the twins, Desmond had found out some weeks ago, and she often visited the train. At first, it was just to convey information to the three but soon her visits became personal - wanting to visit and play with Desmond. She was a nice girl; she was one of the few who could stump Jacob. They’ve almost gotten into many of a fist fight. It was amusing watching a grown man get into an insult match with a 12-year-old. She may have been a little ahead in her years mentally, but she still always had a childlike wonder to her, and she was always bright with it.

“Miss Frye,” began Clara shakily, slowly stepping down the steps to meet with Evie, “what a pleasant surprise.”

Today, though, Clara didn’t seem all that bright. In fact, she seemed pale and was panting a little heavily than normal. She didn’t look so good. It’s almost as if she was--

_‘Oh no,’_ swallowed Desmond as he hopped over to the young girl. _‘Something happened with Elliotson’s death, didn’t it?’_

“Good evening, Clara.” Evie greeted with a nod and a soft smile. “I was just going to check on Lambeth since the asylum's closing. What brings you here?”

“The children in my care have been falling ill.” Clara quickly said and if she didn’t look so ill, she would have looked happy to see that maybe some help was on the way. “Our usual tonics aren't working. I came to--”

The young girl swayed in her steps, though she quickly stopped herself and let out a cough. Frowning and alarmed at the sight of the girl, Evie gently touched her shoulder.

“Are you _certain_ you are feeling alright?”

Clara tried her best to snort. “Of course I am, Miss--”

Her body shook a little as she began to cough once more. Her body told the truth, despite her words, and Clara began to fall over. Quick on her feet, the female assassin caught to urchin in her arms, cradling her against her body.

“ _Clara_!”

_‘Oh, this is bad.’_ Desmond whimpered before letting out a series of barks, hoping to alert someone - anyone nearby and with a heart big enough to help a _dying_ young girl. Evie brought herself on her feet, looking around the empty streets of the Brough, trying to see if there was someone out there, someone who could even help them.

“Is there a doctor nearby?!”

Luck seemed to be on their side, as the asylum doors opened wide. There stood a woman in the period typical dress, a white cap covering her tied behind hair.

“Bring her inside,” instructed the woman. Evie and Desmond wasted no time, the two hurrying up the steps and into the asylum. There was a cot near the doorway and Clara was soon laid down onto it by Evie.

The nurse looked over the young girl, checking her body temperature. “She simply collapsed?”

“Yes,” nodded Evie. “She said the others took tonics, but that they did not work.”

“I should think not!” The nurse let out a frustrated sounding sigh before turning to the assassin and her dog. “Ever since Elliotson was murdered, the district has been overrun with counterfeit tonics. This one needs proper care, but without the appropriate medication, she and the others will quickly decline.”

“ _Jacob_ …” Evie hissed underneath her breath, her gaze downwards at Clara. Desmond, too, growled slightly at the realization that Jacob’s actions had caused some disturbance in the area. The eldest Frye twin let out some air through her nose, looking back at the woman.

“What do you need?”

“I need supplies, plenty of them. And medicine.” The older woman pulled out a list, handing it to Evie. “Some of the less common ingredients are being stolen and sold at auction.”

Looking the list over, the dark-haired woman nodded her head and placed the list in her pocket. “We’d be happy to help.” She said, looking down at Desmond. The corgi nodded his head, looking back up at the kind nurse.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without your help, Miss--”

“Frye,” stated Evie. “Evie Frye. This is Desmond.”

“I'm Ms. Nightingale, how do you both do?” The woman smiled before allowing it to fade into a serious expression. “Please hurry. We don't have much time.”

With a nod of her head, Evie whistled for Desmond to follow her. Desmond looked behind him, a worried look on his face before he bounced out of the entrance of the asylum.

_‘God, Jacob, what the_ fuck _did you do?’_

 

* * *

 

Pickpocketing a peddler never felt so good as it did now, especially when one was dangling it over a needy man’s head, reminding him of a sick child that he had. As Desmond distracted the peddler, Evie’s sneaky fingers had plucked a potion right out of his hands, undetected as always. Once the peddler tried to sell something to another passerby, the corgi joined back up with the elder Frye twin.

“Miss Nightingale said that a pharmacist with the supplies should be around here…” The young woman mumbled, trying to locate them.

‘Please! Someone help me!”

The cries of an innocent person reached their ears. Sharing a glance, Evie and Desmond began to go towards the source of the sound. There stood a man, cornered by Blighters as a few of them inspected the cart nearby.

“Is that everything?” One of the blighters asked as he held a knife to the quivering man.

“You can’t take these!” The man, the pharmacist that Miss Nightingale spoke of, argued. “They’re for the hospital!”

“They’re for whoever pays the most money!” The Blighter snarled in return, his knife pressed up against the man’s neck, sharp stell against flesh. The man paled instantly, gulping. He was clearly accepting that his death would soon follow after they got what they wanted.

Before anything could happen, Evie quickly ran behind the Blighter, pulling him off the man and rammed one of her hidden blades into his back. Of course, her action caused the nearby Blighters to be alerted, but the elder Frye twin had suspected that. She was quick in her actions, taking care of them with her blade and knives. The Blighters laid dead on the ground, blood pooling around them.

The pharmacist let out a relieved breath. He was happy that luck was on his side for once, granting him a savior. not even blinking at the dead bodies around him. Served them right for trying to rob someone, was the conclusion he probably came to.

“I cannot thank you enough,” smiled the man has he gestured to the cart. “These supplies are meant for Ms. Nightingale.”

“I’m here to collect them.”

As the two spoke, Desmond hopped into the cart to see the supplies they were granted with. It seemed like all of that was there, along with the medicine that Evie pickpocketed. This would good, that means they had everything in their grasps and Clara and the other children would be saved!

_‘Wait,’_ paused Desmond, _‘didn’t I say something about_ not _celebrating early?’_

Luck was never on his side. Before Desmond could find fault in his celebration, a Blighter hopped in the cart and whipped the reigns for the horse to move. The cart moved roughly down the road, causing Desmond to fall on the wooden floor of it. He lifted himself off the ground, but the Blighter reached down and grabbed the corgi by the collar.

“If it isn’t my lucky day!” The gang member laughed as he looked at Desmond with interest. “This is the pup that Mr. Starrick and Ms. Thorne were talking about! If I bring you to them, I might get a good reward!”

So even as a dog, Templars were after him. That meant that they figured something was off about him and were probably going to experiment on him or something and unfortunately for him, their methods of such things were going to be a lot more _physically_ painful than being thrown into the Animus. Thinking about it made him wince in thought.

But he wasn’t going to allow them the luxury of doing that! Desmond snarled his teeth at the Blighter and quickly snapped at him, head turned to dig his teeth into his hand. The Blighter let out a pain yelped and dropped the dog on the seat next to him. The corgi would not go down that easily, however; he kept snapping at him, biting him until he was edging off his seat. It was only a matter of time until the Blighter fell from the cart.

Well, the good news is Desmond was safe. The bad news, there was now an unattended horse running through the streets of Lambeth.

_‘Thumbs would be a really good thing right about now!’_

Fortunately, Desmond’s unluckiness ran out right there, as a certain elder Frye twin managed to catch up with the cart and jump in the seat of it. Pulling the reins back, she calmed the horse down, letting it stop for a minute to let it catch its breath. She looked over at Desmond, letting out a breath of relief.

“You,” started the assassin with a soft smile, “really are one lucky dog.”

Desmond let out the breath he had been holding in. At that moment, of Evie coming to his rescue before things turned out worse than they could, he sure felt like the luckiest dog alive.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evie cleans up Jacob's mess. Jacob tries to clean up Evie's mess, in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry about the radio silence. some stuff happened and i wasn't able to sit down long enough to write, but now i'm back! i have a few more chapters drafted, so i'll be touching them up before releasing them into the wild.
> 
> one quick question, though. i'm trying now to avoid making this a _straight_ retelling of syndicate - i want to try and be a little more original and all - so i've been toying with a few ideas! the idea that i've been going back and forth on is adding a couple of oc's of mine. they won't have a huge role and will mostly be minor, but they will have some connection with the twins ( having met them in london before desmond had showed up; i don't want to reveal too much right now! ). i just figured i'd throw the idea out there and see what people think. would that be something people would be alright with? i know it's my story and i can do whatever the hell i want but feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> quick trigger warning - there's mention of homophobia here. 19th century wasn't exactly all that great to lgbt people and while i am the firm believer that jacob isn't too bent over backwards about his sexuality or what people think, i think he probably did suffer from some internalized stuff, even if it was just a bit.
> 
> anyway, enjoy!

“How is she?” Evie asked after the medicine was given to Clara. The assassin looked down at the sleeping girl and studied her features for a mere moment. The colour in her face had returned and she was starting to breathe a lot more normally, but Evie couldn’t help but ask Miss Nightingale, just in case.

The nurse looked over at Evie and smiled gently. “Not to worry, Miss Frye; she will recover.”

Clara stirred, half-awake though clearly also ready to pass out any moment. “Babylon Alley…” She coughed a little, though luckily it wasn’t as violent as before. “The children…”

Desmond placed a paw on Clara, to try and calm her down. Miss Nightingale looked back at Evie before damping a cool towel on Clara’s forehead, to help with the heat of her body.

“Thanks to you, we can distribute authentic medicine now.” The older woman said with a confirming nod of her head.

“But is it a _permanent_ solution?”

“I will petition to have regulations put in place.” Miss Nightingale said with a look of confidence, as well as confidence in her tone. “If they are smart, they will listen to the word of the people - and the doctors that will no doubt support it.”

Evie sighed with relief, nodding her head. “Lambeth is in your debt.” She smiled at the older woman, who returned it with one of her own.

“It takes a long time to change things,” said the nurse as she placed the cloth back into the bowl, “but I'm not going anywhere, Miss Frye.”

As the two women talked, the corgi looked down at Clara, happy that she would be safe and healthy in due time. He guessed she would stay here in the meantime, so that Miss Nightingale could watch over her recovery. Hopefully, in a few days or so, Clara would be back on her feet and hopefully, this whole counterfeit medicine business was over and done with now.

“-- And he fought off a Blighter _by himself_?” Miss Nightingale’s surprised voice pulled Desmond away from his thoughts.

“Yes, I was surprised too.” Evie looked in the corgi’s direction and smiled at him. “Desmond is one lucky dog, I have to say.”

_‘Yeah, I’m pretty lucky.’_ Desmond thought to himself as he leaned into Evie’s hand when she began to pat him on the head. ‘You know, despite every unlucky thing that’s happened to me so far.’

It was always a strange feeling to him especially since he's never received it but he had to admit, the praise was nice to receive every now and again.

 

* * *

 

When the two came back to the train, Jacob had already returned. Desmond could see in Evie’s olive-green eyes that she was ready to tear her twin brother a new one. He was waiting for it, yet upon looking at Jacob’s face, her expression softened. Not too much; just a tad.

“Where’s Agnes?” Evie asked, looking around the train,

“I brought her home.” Jacob answered, quieter than before.

_That_ was a surprise, Desmond mused to himself, but after seeing how quiet Jacob was being, the corgi wasn’t surprised at that. It seemed like Jacob didn’t want to come back to the train for whatever reason. Probably wanted to avoid Evie for a little while longer, because boy could she be angry with reason.

The older twin nodded her head in response. The hardened expression returned to her face as she crossed her arms, eyeing her twin brother.

“You know,” began Evie as she paced around the train, “it would have been nice to have some confirmation as to where you ran off to. Suddenly dropping Desmond off and running off is not what we had planned--”

“Pearl Attaway is dead.”

Silence followed his words. So, Jacob had hunted for Attaway’s blood, just as Desmond predicted. It wasn’t a hard conclusion to come across; the younger Frye twin had been nothing but furious at the betrayal, at being lied to and used. He took it out the only way he knew - cutting Templars’ throats, and this Templar just so happened to be the very one who betrayed him.

She received her end, swiftly and without anyone seeing it. She died not around friends and family, but only with the person she had scorned.

At that, Evie stopped right in her tracks and turned her full body towards her twin brother. Her gaze caught his expression, the hardened one that was quite rare for her impetuous brother, and she swallowed.

“You’ve killed her?” Evie repeated and when Jacob nodded, she continued onward. “But what of her omnibus company? If she is dead, then that means--”

“I’m not in the mood, Evie,” interrupted the younger twin as he stood up. He ignored her calling out to him as he began to make way towards the room. Desmond gave a glance back towards Evie before trotting behind Jacob, knowing that maybe he needed a companion to talk to, and slipping inside of the room before the door was slammed behind him.

Picking and then placing the corgi down onto the bed, he let out an agitated groan and flopped onto the mattress next to him. He looked over at Desmond, exhaling from his nostrils, silence had filled the room they were in. The smell of blood was still somewhat strong on himself, but he ignored his scent as he replayed what had happened in the train, as he saw Pearl Attaway for the last time.

( _“It’s_ business _, Mr. Frye,” chuckled Pearl, in her dying moments. “One does what one must to come out on top.”_ )

“I was played like a fiddle by that woman,” grunted Jacob as he rolled onto his side. “I won’t let that happen again.”

Desmond watched the other male for a minute, wondering if he had fallen asleep after that last declaration. Soon enough, Jacob’s breathing was light, with gentle snores escaping from the man. The corgi let out a huff of air, curling up against the warm body. It was no use trying to argue with Jacob, maybe that’s why Evie didn’t pursue further.

Desmond just wished he could say something to these two. If only he had some way to communicate with them. He decided not to dwell on it any further. For now, he just wanted to sleep after a long day.

 

* * *

 

Early mornings were something Desmond was used to by now and he was already up by the time Jacob had shuffled out of bed and gotten dressed. Watching the male, the modern-day assassin was kind of glad he was a dog in the 19th century - all those layers that Jacob had on did _not_ seem very fun to run around it. Sure, it was cool in London, but Jacob was constantly running around. Didn’t he get hot in all those layers?

Whatever, he’d question how he didn’t have a heat stroke later. He followed Jacob out of the room they slept in and right past a certain elder Frye twin who was absorbed in her usual studies of the Shroud.

“Jacob,” called Evie - not even bothering to look up from her studies.

The male twin stopped, which was a surprise to Desmond. He figured that Jacob would have flat out ignored her and walked out of the train like he normally did when he was angry with anyone. Then again, despite the tension between the two, it was clear that the twins were close and cared enough about each other to stop what they were doing to attend to the other.

Jacob turned towards Evie with a frown. “Yes, sweet sister?” His tone had a faux concern to it.

Looking up, the woman peered through her reading glasses towards her twin brother. It was hard to read Evie at times - she kept herself guarded for various reasons - but now, Desmond found it easy to read her expression. There was concern on her face, a rarity that Desmond hadn’t seen.

Concern for what, however, was still lost on the corgi.

She seemed like she wanted to say something, lips parted for just a few seconds before returning to that thin line frown that Desmond had gotten to know, before turning back to her studies.

“It’s nothing,” whispered Evie as she tried to focus on the papers in front of her, “but I wanted to apologize about last night. I should have checked in with you when you came home, rather than questioned you about your whereabouts.”

That obviously took Jacob by surprise. The male fully turned towards his twin. “Well, Evie, that’s rather nice of you to say--”

“But,” interrupted the dark-haired woman as she turned back to him, “you need to stop being reckless. You could have done some serious damage had I not stepped in.”

The delightful expression Jacob had on had instantly deflated. Desmond couldn’t help but wince a little, too. Evie wasn’t wrong about his recklessness, but she could have landed the blow a little better than that. You know, tell him a little bit after saying ‘hey, I’m sorry things have recently sucked for you and I should have considered your feelings a little more’.

“Of course, you can’t say anything nice without a little criticism,” mumbled Jacob as he narrowed his gaze at her. “So, _I’m_ not allowed to break any rules, but _you_ can go ahead and let your personal feelings compromise the mission!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re still acting all innocent? C’mon, _Evelyn Frye_ , I know the way you look at Greenie.” He flashed a bitter grin in her direction. “You’re just waiting for that bloke to sweep you off your feet, aren’t you?”

_‘Oh, here we go again.’_ Desmond thought to himself as he listened to the banter between the twins.

Evie stood up from her desk, the legs of the chair scraping sharply against the train’s flooring. She turned towards her brother, a glint of anger right in those green eyes of hers.

“Jacob, what _exactly_ is your issue with Henry?” She demanded, placing her hands on her hips as she glared daggers at him. “He is a kind man, and I don’t appreciate you being rude to him. It’s unwarranted, and--”

“I’m _hardly_ rude to him,” interrupted the green-eyed man with a huff. “In fact, we’ve been having a few discussions with each other in between missions, when you’re not hogging him all to yourself.” Still, Jacob grit his teeth and turned away from Evie. “Besides, you wouldn’t understand.”

“You say that, but you never actually tell me anything.” Evie protested, a little offended at him assuming she wouldn’t understand her brother. “If you would just let me--”

“ _I said you wouldn’t understand_!” Jacob growled, words spoken through grit teeth. He grunted when Evie gave him a look of hurt, his expression softening. “Fine, I’ll say it - I don’t hate Henry. I find him pleasant. I just wish you two would stop playing this stupid cat and mouse game, because it’s getting rather boring and frustrating to watch!”

Of course, Desmond knew that Jacob wasn’t being _entirely_ truthful. Complicated feelings were meshed in there, but it seemed like Jacob was trying to steer Evie into the direction of admitting her feelings to Henry. What for, to be able to move on from a love that could never be, to be able to say that his feelings for Henry was just a phase of rebelliousness against a traditional society? Desmond wasn’t an idiot; the 19th century wasn’t exactly a good time for people like them. Their secret life of being in a Brotherhood didn’t exactly protect them from the outside society.

Society still didn’t conform to their respect of freedom, whether they liked it or not.

But that was here nor there, now. The corgi’s eyes darted to Evie, who seemed shocked by her brother’s outburst. A little flustered at how easily she could be seen through, verdant eyes glanced away from a pair of matching ones.

“... I cannot allow my feelings to compromise the mission,” whispered Evie, “because father said--”

“Who cares what father says?” Jacob crossed his arms with a huff of annoyance. “Time’s ticking, you know. If you wait too long, he could find someone else who he fancies, and the weeping unrequited love thing isn’t really your style, nor do I want to stick around for _that_ possible phase of your life because I know it won’t be good for _me_.”

His words were met with another set of glares pointed right at him, but her gaze softened a little. It’s not like he was wrong; she just wished she was the one to figure it out on her own instead of letting her twin brother, who had courted a few girls in the same week back in Crawley, to figure that out.

“When did you become an intellect on this subject?”

“Someone has to be.” The younger Frye simply waved his hand. “Your nose is so far in a book, you don’t see what’s around you, so you need another pair of eyes.” He smirked when the elder Frye twin huffed at him.

“I cannot seem to tell if you’re _actually_ supportive of this or not,” Evie remarked with a sigh. “You are as confusing as ever, brother dearest.”

“Only because I enjoy making your life more complicated than it should be, sweet sister.” Jacob chuckled as he patted Evie on the shoulder, who simply rolled her eyes and walked back to her desk. “If you don’t tell Henry by the end of this whole thing, then I’m telling him for you.”

_That_ remark made Evie gasp and drop the papers she was cleaning up from her desk. “You wouldn’t _dare_.”

“Oh, _this_ is a promise I’ll keep.” The male smiled mischievously as he inched towards the door. “In fact, I think he’s outside! Perhaps I’ll tell him now to get this whole thing over with! Evie Frye wants Henry Green to sweep her off her feet and whisk her away!”

“ _Jacob Frye_!”

The younger twin was already running out the door, with the elder twin hot on his heels. The two of them were yelling at each other, though luckily it wasn’t angry yelling ( well, Evie might be a little angry at Jacob’s little prank ). Desmond simply stared at the door and raised a brow at the sight he just witnessed.

At the same time, though, he really did appreciate it. Seeing them as siblings, seeing them _actually_ have fun with each other - it was much more preferred than the angry fighting and yelling. If he could smile, the bartender would be giving the biggest grin he could muster.

Maybe, _just maybe_ , things were going to be alright.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond growls at Starrick. Starrick will remember this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [crawls out from castlevania hell] hi i didn't forget this.
> 
> lost some steam for this fic buuuut some of it has returned and i do wanna get it done! not to worry, i'll still be putting effort into this! i want to say we're almost done but realistically we'll probably be going over 20 chapters.
> 
> anyway, thanks for sticking around and i hope you enjoy!

The next few days had passed by like a blur. The Templars were quiet, which could mean anything, but Desmond was sure that they were just as lost as they were with locating the shroud. In fact, he overheard some Blighters speak about how _‘Ms. Thorne was one angry woman when she didn’t get what she wanted’_ and buzz like that. Which was good; it gave them a day or two for the twins and good ol’ Greenie to catch their breaths.

Speaking of which, Desmond was indeed somewhere that's green - and that was with Henry in his shop. The twins were off socializing with Charles Dickens, something about hunting a legendary cryptid-being called _‘Spring-heeled Jack’_ or something. It wasn’t Bigfoot or Mothman, so Desmond wasn’t that interested. He needed a rest after running around with Jacob and Evie all night too, so hanging out with Henry in his quiet shop was much preferred.

Henry looked over some notes that they had snatched up, already looking to plot their next mood. Aside from the occasional scribbling from Henry’s pen, the shop was quiet as Desmond laid on the desk. He was half asleep when the assassin cleared his throat to get his attention.

“Desmond,” began Henry as his gaze shifted off to the side. The corgi opened his eyes and lifted his head, noting the strange behavior that the black-haired male was displaying. He was quiet for a few minutes, before finally sighing and turning back towards him. “When you and Miss Frye are out together, does she happen to… speak of me?”

_‘Speak of you? I mean, she talks about a lot of things and she talks about how you guys are great working together and--’_ Desmond paused in his thoughts, the gears in his head practically turning when he realized what the male meant. _‘-- Oh._ Oh _. He means like_ that _.’_

Truthfully, aside from her discussion with Jacob just a few days ago, Evie hadn’t really mentioned Henry outside of work. It was clear that the woman did fancy the man, though, by the way they interacted. The way their hands would brush against each other and linger a little longer than normal when they passed papers to each other, the way they would look at each other when they knew the other wasn’t looking - it was all clearly obvious to a third party.

The unfortunate thing was Evie was _so_ goal oriented that she _barely_ wore her heart on her sleeve. It wasn’t like with Jacob, who wore his heart on his sleeve more times than she did. Regardless, a certain Ethan Frye must have forgot how to teach his children _‘how to deal with feelings 101’_ , because _both_ were _terrible_ at dealing with their feelings and recognizing them.

Ah, the life of the assassin! Where everyone’s going to die young, probably, so no need to teach them how to act like human beings.

But back to the topic at hand, Desmond tilted his head slightly before making a strange sound, something to convey _‘I don’t know’_ because he really _didn’t_ ; Evie talked about Henry, but perhaps not in the way he was hoping for. With that confirmation, the human male couldn’t help but sigh in defeat.

“I assumed as much,” whispered Henry as he looked down at the reports on the desk. “Miss Frye is such a remarkable woman, but I fear she is… too good, for someone like me. Not to mention, I am certain Jacob would not be so kind to the idea of me courting his sister.”

_‘Well, that and he also has a crush on you but hasn’t really accepted it yet.’_ Desmond thought as he slid over to the assassin. Henry was a nice guy, but he was just a little spineless to be completely blunt. The corgi was certain that Henry would soon die than get his feelings out to Evie, and something like that… Well, it resonated with Desmond a little.

He really liked the Lucy back in his time. Stillman was kind and smart, and she could keep up with his sarcasm and jokes when she wasn’t under stress. To be honest, after they had saved the world from ending, he was thinking about asking Lucy if they could… Well, dates were out of the question because of their identities but maybe after they saved the world, they could run off to somewhere for a quick vacation, to get to know the Desmond and Lucy that weren’t assassins.

Fate had another plan for them though - Lucy was six feet under and Desmond should have died but instead time traveled and ended up in the body of a dog. It wasn’t exactly something he planned, and he still regret not telling her sooner. At the same time, maybe it was best he didn’t; her betrayal would have hurt more if she returned his feelings.

He’d rather not have Henry end up like him, at least with not telling the person he liked his feelings and waiting until it was too late. The conversation with Jacob from a few days earlier also rang through his head, and he knew that he too was expecting Evie to also make a move. Unfortunately, they were dealing with a bit of a shy guy and a girl who was shoving her feelings aside for her career, so this was going to take a lot of work.

_What to do, what to do_ …

A book caught the corner of Desmond’s eyes and he trotted over to it, knocking it down from the stack with his paw. The cover of it had a flower on it, and its title _was ‘The Language of Flowers: An Introduction to Flower Pressing’_.

Curious, had Henry picked this up for a reason?

“Desmond? What are you looking at?”

The man in question went over to the corgi and he froze, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed at being found out.

“I… heard it was a British pastime. I figured it would be nice to appreciate the nature that England had to offer and--” he swallowed, “-- I was wondering if Miss Frye would be interested.”

Desmond pushed the book towards Henry, who once again froze. “Are you suggesting I ask her to help me complete the herbarium?”

_‘It’s worth a shot?’_ Desmond gave another noise. _‘I mean, the worst she’ll do is decline, and I don’t think she’s gonna decline learning.’_

Henry held the book in his hands and examined it for what seemed to be forever, before looking at Desmond finally with a smile etched across his face.

“Very well,” nodded the man, “I shall do so the next time I see her.” 

_‘Fucking finally, Greenie.’_

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Green?”

Both Henry and Desmond looked up at find Mary Anne Disraeli standing there with a smile on her face.

“Mrs. Disraeli,” greeted Henry with a smile as he watched Desmond trot over to the older woman as she patted the dog on the head and cooed at him lovingly, “it’s a pleasure to see you - I assume you’re here to pick up Desmond?”

_‘Oh, right…’_ Desmond thought to himself as he looked between the two. _‘I kinda don’t actually belong to Henry and the twins. Almost forgot about that.’_

Mrs. Disraeli stopped her petting of Desmond and looked back up at Henry with a wry smile. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, if you have time to chat.”

“As you can see, there’s not much going on around here,” chuckled the assassin as he gestures around the room, “but of course. Is something troubling you?”

“Quite a bit.” The older woman crossed her arms and let out a sigh. “Yesterday, there was a break in at our house - don’t worry, everyone and everything is fine! - but the housekeeper has reported there have been some gangsters dressed in red wandering near our house. It’s gotten very concerning.”

She stopped there for a moment, to allow the information to sink in. Henry was quiet with a thoughtful look on his face and Desmond too took the information given to them in. It was true that the Blighters didn’t meddle too much with the lives of the wealthy and privileged, given they were paid off by colleagues and people who were wealthy and privileged, so this twist of events was a little unsettling.

“Have the police gotten involved?” Henry asked after some silence.

“Oh, yes, they have.” The woman nodded her head. “They’ve got some officers watching the house, which is good, but… I would feel better if Desmond remained in your care for a little while longer. Lord knows what they could possibly be planning next. Desmond is a prize pet of mine, after all! I would be heartbroken if something were to happen to him.”

The assassin smiled and nodded his head at her words. “Not to worry, Mrs. Disraeli; Desmond is safe here. It’s very quiet here, so no harm will be done to him.”

_‘Yeah, no worry about me constantly aiding assassins and playing a game of life and death where I somehow am lucky enough to land on the life space.’_ Though, Desmond had no room to talk; he volunteered himself to do these things.

“Brilliant!” Mrs. Disraeli clapped her hands. “Then it’s settled, he’ll stay here until the investigation is solved. In the meantime, though, I’ll be happy to take him off your hands for a little walk around. I think he’s been gaining a little weight!”

Desmond made a noise in response. Really, what was with British people constantly poking fun at his weight?

  


Like Mrs. Disraeli said, she had taken Desmond off Henry’s hands for a little walk around the neighborhood. It was nice, being able to walk like this without having to worry about Blighters of Templars chasing after you and Mrs. Disraeli said she would try and stop by once a week to take Desmond out for some walks, but it was hard to know if this would be a consistent thing or not. Still, the gesture was nice, and the corgi was having the time of his life.

“Mrs. Disraeli, what a surprise.”

Well, he was having a good time, until a familiar voice reached his ears. It was a voice he had heard once, when he and Jacob had followed Pearl Attaway after assassinating Millner.

Looking up, Desmond’s eyes met a certain Crawford Starrick’s own gaze, one that had a sinister layer underneath the neutral gaze he gave Mrs. Disraeli. Immediately did Desmond stand his guard, practically glaring at the businessman before him, but his owner didn’t seem to bat an eye at him. Of course, she wouldn’t; she had no idea what a Templar was, after all.

“Mr. Starrick, what a surprise!” The older woman smiled at the man and gave a nod of her head to greet him. “Enjoying the fine weather as well?”

Starrick returned the nod with one of his own. “Quite so, Mrs. Disraeli. I have some business to attend to, but I thought a small stroll would ease my mind a little.”

“Yes, I thought so.” Mrs. Disraeli paused with her words. “I heard about Ms. Attaway’s passing. I’m so sorry to hear about that. You have my condolences.”

Desmond couldn’t help but swallow a little, knowing that Jacob had a part to play in that. Of course, he knew that the Grandmaster would never reveal that kind of information to a citizen; as much as the Templars hated the Assassins, they knew that outing them would mean outing themselves and they could possibly lose control over everything should that happen. So, Desmond wasn’t surprised when Starrick said nothing and simply gave a small nod of his head in gratitude for the kindness expressed from the woman.

“As much as I would like to continue to grieve, I have a business to keep moving forward.” Starrick simply said as he looked down at Desmond with interest for a moment.

Instinctively, the corgi began to growl at Starrick, because Desmond just didn’t think before he acted - Jacob would have been proud and Evie… would have been proud too but probably a little mortified. Quickly, Mrs. Disraeli hushed Desmond a little.

“I’m _so_ sorry, Mr. Starrick!” The woman apologized for her dog’s behavior, not knowing the real reason why he had growled at him. “He’s not too great with strangers. It takes some time for Desmond to warm up to people.”

“I suppose that can be said about anyone,” mumbled Starrick as he placed his hat back on his head, “but I must part ways with you for now."

As Starrick turned to leave, he cast one final glance behind his shoulder, towards the woman and her dog. "Be sure to keep an eye on that dog of yours; he could fall into the wrong hands if you’re not careful.” Not waiting for any kind of response, Starrick made his way down the street.

Mrs. Disraeli blinked and looked down at Desmond with a confused look on her face, though she said nothing more about the encounter they just had. In fact, she seemed to have disregarded it and waved it off as a simple, strange interaction.

“Well, I suppose it’s time to get you back!” She hummed as the two began to walk back to the curiosity shop. “Dizzy and I have a few things to do today, so I better get a move on, so I don’t delay it any further.”

The corgi simply followed along at her side, quiet as he replayed the scene that just occurred in his head. Starrick obviously knew he was the corgi that many of the Blighters were talking about, that was certain. Given what that one Blighter had said, it seemed like Starrick was hunting Desmond down for whatever reason. He knew that Starrick wouldn’t have acted right there, with so many people around them, so he was going to wait for an opportunity to strike.

A sigh exhaled from his nose, as Desmond realized that he would once again be living a life where he was constantly looking over his shoulder, day after day. A life he had wanted to leave behind in his own time.

Unfortunately, he’s realized now that you don’t exactly get what you want when you’re born in the Brotherhood.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what kind of name is Plutus, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have anything witty to say! just enjoy, like always!

“Well, well…” Jacob mused to himself as he picked up a letter that was laying on the table. “What do we have here?”

Evie sat at the table, scribbling some things in her notebook as Jacob sat down on the couch with letter in hand. Desmond hopped up on it, wiggling his behind to pull himself up with his tiny little legs, and once he was up and able to see the contents of the letter by squeezing under Jacob’s arm, his eyes dragged along the words etched onto the paper.

 

> _Boiler,_
> 
> _This Dredge character's meddling will be the death of us. He was loitering around the exchange today asking far too many questions about the bank. Should he discover my plan, you will face a far worse fate than losing your job._
> 
> _Signed, Plutus._

 

_‘Plutus?’_ Desmond mused to himself as he wiggled out of the male assassin’s arm. _‘What kind of name is_ Plutus _? That sounds like an illness your fucking doctor diagnoses you with because you swam in some bad kelp or something.’_

As the corgi thought about how absolutely silly the name Plutus was, Jacob stood up, folding the letter up and placing it in his coat pocket as he hummed to himself. His twin sister stopped her writing, closing the notebook so that no one ( or at least, a certain twin standing next to her ) would peek at it.

“This _Plutus_ is Starrick’s banker, right?” The smile on Jacob’s face grew a little more. “I wager Dredge will lead me to him.”

“I _don’t_ like that smile you’re giving me, brother dearest,” commented Evie as she gave a small sigh. “But while you’re out and about, _do_ attempt not to destroy modern medicine or the London transportation network.”

Her request was met with an immature snort.

“I’m serious, Jacob,” said Evie sternly as she looked up into verdant eyes with matching ones. “Innocent lives hang in the balance. They depend on this city.”

“ _I’m_ not the one who let Lucy Thorne walk away.” Jacob retorted, with a bitter smile.

The room was silent, and the elder twin glanced over at Desmond, as if he was inclined to say something. Desmond made a noise at her. It’s not like Jacob was _wrong_ about that; she did kind of let Lucy Thorne slip away - _with_ the key in hand. Something that could have easily been avoided had a few certain things prior to it not had happened.

_‘Seriously, maybe next time don’t wear the key around your neck, Evie.’_

Knowing that she wouldn’t get the final word in with the help of a dog, Evie simply turned back to Jacob and crossed her arms and gave him her usual exasperated look. “That is a mistake I intend to rectify immediately.”

“As you say, sweet sister.” The male twin whistled for Desmond. “C’mon, boy - we’ve got some work to do.”

Desmond hopped after Jacob and the two departed from the train, leaving a certain female twin sighing at her brother’s usual antics.

 

* * *

 

“-- I say we stop this goodwill toward strangers nonsense and focus on what London really needs,” continued a banker to his associates as he passed by an unsuspecting man reading a newspaper and his little dog, “solid leadership whose hard work will raise everyone up to success! As go the titans of business, so goes the world.”

Desmond laid out on the sidewalk near Jacob as the assassin absentmindedly flipped through the newspaper, both keeping an ear out on the man talking and an eye out on their surroundings. The corgi peered at the man walking with his associates, taking in his appearance. Obviously, this was one of those rich folks that probably didn’t care about anyone who didn’t have a coin to spare.

And Desmond was right; the man in question had kicked some beggar’s coin plate out of the way. When the beggar tried to get to his feet to weakly yell at him, the banker sneered at him as though he stepped in some gunk on the street.

“You weak fool, get a job!” The old man yelled, before continuing with his associates and leaving the beggar on the street. The corgi watched the men wander off into the other direction and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the exchange that had happened right there.

_‘Oh, he’s_ clearly _a pinnacle of working for everyone’s success.’_ Desmond thought to himself as he picked himself off the sidewalk. _‘Seriously, and I thought the rich snobs back in my time were bad with their_ ‘stop being poor’ _rhetoric.’_

He looked over at Jacob, who had lowered the newspaper and looked over at where the Royal Exchange was happening. Over there were two guards, standing in front of one of the entrances and looking around for any kind of suspicious people that shouldn’t be there - or in other words, people like Jacob.

“The best guards money can buy,” mumbled Jacob as he surveyed the sight before him, “won't do Mr. Dredge any good.”

With that, the assassin handed the newspaper back to a very disappointed paperboy, who obviously would not be receiving any money, before walking towards another entrance with Desmond trailing behind him. So, they were to infiltrate the exchange and speak with this Mr. Dredge. That was easy enough! At least, it _should_ be, if Jacob can keep quiet and not cause a ruckus, hopefully.

There were a lot of people around, so it wasn’t hard to blend in with the crowd. Still, there were also a lot of policemen around as well, clearly ready to arrest someone to fill their quota for the day even if the people they arrest weren’t doing anything too damaging or bad. Kneeling, Jacob patted Desmond on the head, glancing at some of the policemen that were nearby.

“Think you can get them out of my direction?”

_‘Oh, sure, send the dog to do your dirty work.’_ Desmond thought with a snort, though obviously he couldn’t exactly deny the favor since he couldn’t speak, but if it meant less distractions for Jacob, then that meant they could get the job done without any issues.

The corgi nodded his head and began to walk around the place, trying not to leave his trail towards Jacob. It turned out being a cute dog helped in his favor, because his attention was now on him and not some weirdo gangster in a top hat. Many people _‘awwed’_ at the little corgi waddling around, and thankfully none of them recognized him as Mrs. Disraeli’s dog.

The policemen were not too happy about him being in the building, however.

“Hey, get that mutt out of there!”

As with fooling the everyday person, fooling the policemen was no hard job to do either; they were more focused on chasing the _‘mangy mutt’_ ( as they yelled at him ) out of the exchange so it didn’t damage anything or bother anyone than focus on the fact that said weirdo gangster with the top hat was now leading someone out of the building. Desmond darted behind some nearby boxes, waiting and watching as the policemen looked around for him.

“Where did he go?”

“Who knows and who cares. Let’s hope it ran out of the building. Come on - We have more important things to do, now.”

Desmond peeked out as soon as the guards walked away, a smug look right on his face. Turned out that policemen were easy to fool like Blighters and that was a success in his book. He looked around, trying to spy Jacob with his eagle vision in the crowds of people. Once he spotted that familiar green and a yellow figure being guided by him, the corgi trotted over to him and followed the two men out of the building.

“Stupid pillock, I'll have you arrested, I'll-”

“The less you fight, the sooner you'll be released,” mumbled Jacob to the very unhappy man as he clicked his tongue once, “eyes front.”

Desmond looked up at the man with a curious look on his face. Maybe he was just seeing things, but that man did look a little familiar to him. There was something about that face, body and voice that just rang to him that he and Jacob _should_ know who this guy is, outside of a name.

“Now wait a minute- I know that voice!” Mr. Dredge gasped in shock. “ _Frye_ , is that you? It's me! Sergeant Frederick Abberline!”

_‘Wait, Freddy? Good ol’ Abberline?’_

As soon as he said his name, Jacob released the man. As soon as they got a better look at him, it all became clear - that familiar beard and tired eyes came into sight. It truly was the good sergeant himself.

“Freddy,” sighed out Jacob, though he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the entire situation.

“ _Sergeant_ ,” corrected Abberline as he glanced around the place. Once he was sure that no one was listening he continued onward, “undercover. There's to be a robbery at the Bank of England, I'm sure of it.”

_‘A robbery?’_ Desmond mused at the information given. He had passed the bank a few times before and he knew that robbing it wouldn’t be an easy task to do _. ‘Isn’t that place built like a fucking fortress?’_

“Robbery? It’s a fortress.”

_‘Thanks, Jacob.’_

“The boys at the station thought it was funny, too.” Abberline sighed as he rubbed his temples frustratedly. “Wouldn’t be so funny if they knew it was their life savings at risk.”

“Who’s behind it?” Jacob grilled, after some seconds of silence.

“That’s _confidential_ ,” answered the good sergeant, without missing a beat.

“Oh, come off, Freddy.” The gang leader huffed a little at the sergeant's reluctancy to tell them any more information. “I can help you. Imagine the headlines:” Taking a step back, Jacob exaggerated his words with his hands. " _Thieves Caught in the Act! Abberline Right All Along_."

Abberline considered it for a moment. Truly, who could deny the glory of _‘I was right’_ and _‘I told you so’_? Desmond knows that any person would bask in such a glory, no matter how mature they try to act.

Speaking of a certain corgi, Jacob picked up Desmond, practically shoving the dog in the other man’s face. “Besides, who can say no to a cute little dog like this? Come on, Freddy.” The younger man said in a sickening, sing-songy voice as he wiggled the corgi a little.

_‘I will,_ absolutely _, barf all over you if you keep this up, Fryeboy.’_

“Alright, alright... I suppose I can fill you in a little.” Abberline finally gave in, lowering his voice as he continued. “Every fiscal quarter, a branch of the bank is robbed, never the same branch. And you know who the thieves are supplied by? Cockham Merchants, that’s who.”

Getting the information given to him, Jacob tucked Desmond under his arm. “Thanks for the info, Freddy.” With that, he gave a two-finger salute and was out of sight before Abberline could even blink.

“It’s _sergeant_!” Abberline called after Jacob. “A-And I’m keeping my eye on you!”

 

 

Back on the streets, Jacob placed Desmond down so the pup could walk next to him. Stretching his limbs, the assassin couldn’t help but chuckle at the whole situation. It was a hilarious situation and a coincidence, now that Desmond thought about it. He heard the story of how Abberline tried to dress up as a woman to be _‘discreet’_ when approaching the Frye twins, but clearly blending into the costume was easier said than done for the good sergeant.

“Turns out Mr. Dredge was Freddy all along. Who would have guessed?” Jacob grinned as he dusted his hands off. “Oh well, no time to dwell on that any further. We’ve got the information we need. That’s a success so far don’t you think, Desmond?”

The corgi barked in response. Success was success, no matter how small it was. Now the next step was to get more information. The two made their way down the street to head back to the train, just for a little bit of rest.

Tonight, they would continue onward.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob had one job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing witty this time around, though updates might slow down a little after the next chapter, mainly because i need to write the next set of chapters!

“If only I knew what shipment it was,” mumbled Abberline with a disgruntled expression upon his features, “then I could trace the weapons to their owner.”

Jacob and Desmond had met up with Abberline over at the Thames river later that night to continue their plan on stopping the robbery. So far, they had no leads aside from what Abberline had given them, but as always, Jacob was not one to give up so easily. It was admirable of him, Desmond had to admit.

_‘If London was on fire, Jacob would still think it was a_ ‘jolly good day’ _or something British like that.’_

But that was neither here nor there; they had other things to worry about. Jacob grinned at the sergeant and patted him on the shoulder.

“Capital idea, Freddy.” He drawled on his words, giving him another pat on the shoulder and quickly made his way to the docks, before Abberline could ask what he had in mind. Desmond, of course, followed the assassin without hesitation. He also had to admit that Jacob _did_ always have a plan in mind, even if that plan could potentially be dangerous.

“Here we are - the shipping docks.” Jacob announced to Desmond as he placed his hands on his hips and gazed around the area. “Now where are the Cockham crates intended for Mr. Plutus?”

Verdant eyes looked at Desmond expectingly and it didn’t take the corgi to put two and two together. He wanted Desmond to search around the area for some crates. Well, it really wasn’t a problem - he expected to do some work around here after all - so he wasted no time in getting started. The corgi started to sniff the area as quietly as he could, with Jacob following close behind.

The two found one of the crates and Jacob quickly picked at its lock and popped it open. Up on his hind legs, Desmond looked right into the crate, his nose picking up a very familiar scent.

“Tea,” commented Jacob, taking the words right from Desmond’s thoughts. For a moment, he considered something but, in the end, he shook his head. “Maybe later. Let’s keep looking. Just where the devil could it be…”

The corgi jumped down from the crate and continued to sniff around, the two quickly managing to hide from any suspicious Blighters that had heard a noise. Desmond peeked out from behind their hiding space, squinting as he spotted yet another crate in their line of sight. He made a noise towards the assassin before trotting over to it, allowing Jacob to once again pick its lock and pop it open.

“Well,” whistled the brown-haired male as he peered inside of the crate, “ _Hello_.”

Inside were the weapons they were looking for. Closing it, he quickly marked the crate with his hidden blade. At the dramatic notion, Desmond made another noise.

“What, you don’t want me to lose track of them again, do you?”

_‘No, but you might as well have signed_ ‘Jacob was here, Starrick is a loser’ _right on it.’_

Still, the crate was found, marked by his blade, and now they just needed to wait for them to be delivered. Picking the corgi up, Jacob ducked and crouched towards the warehouse that was nearby, hook shooting his way to the roof, so he could keep an eye on the cargo. He placed Desmond down and let a sigh slip past his lips. At the very least, now the both could take a breather.

“If my dear sister could see me now,” mumbled the assassin with a slightly bitter chuckle. “She _always_ thinks I’m out destroying things. I’ll show her how _I_ settle accounts.”

Ah, that good old resentment of being seen by many as a destructive force of nature. To be fair, Jacob certainly had a knack for destroying things easily, but Desmond saw just how hard it was to get actual recognition from someone who clearly mattered to him.

_‘Maybe this whole thing will go nicely, and nothing gets destroyed so Evie will be proud of him.’_ Desmond thought as Jacob picked him up once more. Oh, well, he didn’t have any more time to dwell on Jacob’s nature; the cargo was starting to move now, and they needed to get a trail on it right away. The Blighters had handed the reins to another man - a man with an armband with a symbol that was all too familiar to the two of them.

“Templars.”

_‘Of course, who else would it be?’_

Scanning the area, the male assassin’s eyes laid right on a carriage that was nearby and placed Desmond in the cart of it before taking the reins in his hand and directing to horse to follow the trail the cargo had left behind. The corgi sat comfortable in the carriage, not having to worry about falling out of it and only had to worry about the minor jerks from some tight turns.

In fact, he was so comfortable that he hadn’t realized they had reached their destination. He quickly peeked up from the window, seeing the Templar and Blighter exchange some words with each other. Admittedly, it was hard to pick up everything but at the very least, he was able to make out something important.

“Same routine as before,” began the Templar as he patted the crate filled with weapons, “Twopenny opens the vault, we rob it and leaves the money in his storehouse. Now, look sharp; the boys are waiting.”

“To the Bank of England!”

With the instructions cleared, the Blighter took the reins from the Templar and shook them, allowing the horse to trot away. Jacob opened the door to the carriage to retrieve Desmond, who jumped out of the carriage, letting out quite the sigh at the realization of who Plutus really was.

“The governor of the bank is the robber all along,” mused the assassin as he patted Desmond on the head for a job well done. “Wait ‘til Freddy hears this exciting news.”

The corgi let out another noise as he instinctively wagged his tail from the petting. _‘Man, this is really a mess.’_ He thought to himself as the two made their way back.

And oh, what a mess this was.

 

* * *

 

Bright and early was their plan for the next morning and Jacob and Desmond had met good ol’ Abberline on the rooftop across the Bank of England. The male assassin walked towards the sergeant, with the corgi trailing behind, stopping right next to the other male.

Abberline took his smoking pipe out of his mouth, looking over at Jacob for a moment before exhaling smoke in the other direction.

“Well,” began Abberline, “what say you?”

“You’re _not_ going to like this.” Jacob muttered as he placed his hands on the railing, fingers gripping around the cool steel.

“Now see here,” Abberline wagged his finger in his colleague's direction, “I am graced with the Abberline family's robust constitution.”

_‘Yeah,’_ thought Desmond as he looked towards the bank through the bars _, ‘that robust constitution might not be able to handle for what we’re about to say.’_

As if he could read his mind, Jacob sighed and shrugged his shoulders in Desmond’s direction.

“Twopenny’s robbing the bank.”

The good sergeant choked on the smoke he was about to exhale from his pipe.

_‘Told you so.’_

After catching his breath, Abberline looked over in Jacob’s direction with wide eyes, eyes that Desmond was sure were going to pop right out of his head. “The _governor_ of the _bank_?” He choked out and when Jacob nodded his head, he let out an exasperated groan. “I think I might need to sit down.”

_‘Poor guy, he really wasn’t expecting this.’_ Desmond patted the sergeant’s leg, to try and help calm him down. As for Jacob, he wasn’t here to give him any sympathy.

“There’s no time for that.” Jacob said as he looked towards the horizon of the bank. It truly was like a fortress; no wonder Twopenny was robbing it - he was the only one who could even get in. "Bastard's probably deep in the vault by now.”

“However you get in, I don’t want to know.” Abberline quickly said as he waved his hand to clear the smoke.

“Of course,” shrugged Jacob, “but do you know _how_ I can get in?”

For a moment, there was some hesitation as the older male looked between the building and Jacob. However, all hesitation seemed to disappear as he grasped at the situation at hand. Desmond knew that Abberline couldn’t hesitate any longer, despite the unsavory nature of how the Frye Twins get things done. It was either not do anything and let Twopenny get away with the robbery or do something, regardless of the fact Jacob would be committing a crime by sneaking into the vault.

“The bank is designed to protect England's gold reserves - a fortress guarded under lock and key.” Abberline began to speak after a few minutes of silence. “The only one allowed in the vault with free access is Mr. Osborne, the bank manager. He’s always near the entrance of the building.”

Jacob and Desmond nodded their head when Abberline stopped, and once they understood that, the sergeant continued onwards.

“There’s one man who keeps a close eye on the door. If he sees you, he’s sure to seal it up.” The sergeant looked towards the bank, clearly still distressed at all of this. “And then there’s Gus Howard - the guard captain who is more than likely in on this as well because of how close he and Twopenny are.”

“Great,” replied Jacob to the information with a smile. “Thanks for the information, Freddy.”

Before the assassin could wander off, Abberline quickly grabbed at his arm to stop him.

“Mr. Frye, _please_ use discretion,” requested Abberline with a serious tone laced in his words. “You have to catch him in the act. Do _not_ jeopardize him and do _not_ make any big shows. This is the Bank of England. Absolutely nothing bad can happen. I’ll be in disguise if you need me.”

With that, the sergeant made his way towards the staircase, downwards so he could reach the bank. Desmond looked towards the bank with Jacob, letting out a small sigh. This was a big mission, but so was saving the entire world and Desmond thought he did pretty well with that - minus releasing Juno, anyway.

_‘Alright, no big deal. We got a plan! Catch Twopenny in the act and send him off to jail. A straightforward plan. Absolutely_ nothing _can turn this around--’_

“Twopenny won’t be leaving that vault.”

_‘-- And we’re done for. Abberline’s going to hate us forever because some idiot thinks he can kill every person who is his enemy. Great!’_

Desmond growled in response to Jacob’s words, which was met with a scoff that was equal to the annoyance the corgi had given him.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” huffed Jacob with an eyeroll. “It’s better if Twopenny is dead now than later. Who says he doesn’t have more connections around? By eliminating him right here, we can cut off those connections much more easily than have him still alive.”

For a moment, Desmond considered his words. In a strange way, he… did kind of have a point. Sure, killing people was still something Desmond had to get used to and Abberline did say not to cause any problems and to simply catch him in the act, but would Twopenny even stay in jail for long? He’s a rich guy and would probably get out of jail in no time - who’s to say he wouldn’t go back to robbing people? But still, they had promised Abberline that they wouldn’t make any big shows, nor would they jeopardize his life.

The corgi, unfortunately, had no real time to continue dwelling on the thought as Jacob jumped down from the ledge he had gotten on, diving right into the pile of hay nearby. With a sigh, Desmond simply jumped down as well and followed the assassin without any more question. He couldn’t help but feel like all of this was _still_ a bad idea and that maybe they should listen to Abberline. Not listening to others was the thing Jacob was, unfortunately, very good at.

 

* * *

 

 Taking Twopenny out was not a hard thing to do, after they had gotten to the vault by blending in as a man and his dog on a tour of the bank and finding the guard that was in on the whole thing as well. They hid behind the painting in the vault, waiting until the governor of the bank was alone and without the help of the low-level templars with him. It was clear that Twopenny was looking to rob every valuable thing in the vault for Starrick and the Templar Order and the painting that sat innocently to the side was one of those things.

The painting would be the last thing Twopenny would ever see, before getting his throat slashed by a hidden blade.

It was quick and easy, though of course Twopenny had his own words to say about the people of London - how they squandered their savings, how London needed people like him to thrive and survive. It was hard to sit through with how self-satisfying it was for the governor to say those things, and eventually the male assassin had gotten sick of it. Desmond was starting to get sick of it too.

A shilling was flipped into Twopenny’s cold, dead open hand, landing perfectly into the palm of it. Verdant eyes looked downwards at the older man one last time.

“For the path of the dead,” sneered Jacob as he quickly turned away from the dead body that laid on the vault’s floor. Picking up Desmond, the two had made their escape. As they got out of the fortress-like building, the two watched as the robbers that were with Twopenny ran out of the bank, screaming about how there had been a murder.

Unfortunately, their saviors had been several police officers.

“Arrest them all for robbing the people of England!” Abberline yelled, directing his men to the robbers. Soon enough, they were handcuffed and being dragged off to the carriages. “The Bank of England is closed until further notice.”

  


Desmond sat in a cart that parked and watched as the streets of London were bustling with policemen. It wouldn’t be long until they found Twopenny’s body and while they would have no idea who had done it, a certain sergeant would know. Luckily for Jacob, Abberline was pretty much in a partnership where he wouldn’t compromise the Brotherhood.

_‘He better be counting his blessings at night,’_ thought Desmond as he glared up at a smug looking assassin, who simply patted Desmond on the head and talked about how the corgi had nothing to worry about after all.

Making a noise, Desmond simply laid his head back down hoping that for once, things wouldn’t be completely out of control.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond likes to believe he's different from Starrick. At the same time, he can't help but worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI I'M BACK.
> 
> sorry for the very long wait, i lost some steam for this story but i think i've gotten it back!! i wanted to at least upload a chapter i already finished before diving into another one. thank you for being patient with me! i hope you enjoy this one!

“What good is a key if you don't know what lock it opens?” Evie mumbled as she flipped through the many books that laid on the table.

Henry hummed in agreement. “I dare say Miss Thorne is in the same predicament.”

It had been a good day or two since the death of Twopenny and Jacob was out with the other Rooks to celebrate a successful mission. Desmond sat at the table with them as he watched the two assassins get to the bottom of where the lock for the shroud was. Their plans had been set back thanks to Jacob’s little interference with the transportation network of London, which Evie of course had to clean up.

Between that and the medicine debacle, the older twin was quite furious with her younger twin brother and Desmond could only guess what was going to happen next. If only he could do something about the bank incident, that way Evie wouldn’t be stuck cleaning up Jacob’s mess and Jacob wouldn’t go mad from hearing another lecture from his sister.

_‘But I can’t do anything right now.’_ Desmond sighed and made a sad noise, which was met with Evie patting him on the head. _‘Because I’m still trapped in the body of a dog. We need that shroud, like fucking ASAP.’_

“Henry!” Evie happily called out to the other assassin, before realizing that she had called him by his first name to his face and instantly, her cheeks had a bit of colour to them from embarrassment. ‘I-- ah, Mr. Green. Here, this is it.”

Both Desmond and Henry leaned over, their gaze following where Evie’s finger was pointing. The illustration shown in the books was that of a casket, stowed away in what looked to be the walls of a tower.

“This casket looks like the one owned by the Queen…” Henry muttered to himself. “Stowed away, in the Tower of London.”

“It’s a fortress,” sighed Evie as she placed her cheek in the palm of her hand, knowing that getting in would be a bit of a challenge. “If only we had a friend on the inside…”

“There’s a guardsman I know,” answered Henry with a close of one of his books. “When you get inside, talk to him. He should be able to help.”

The female assassin nodded her head with a gentle smile, standing up and pushing the chair in. “I’ll talk to you once I have the shroud in hand. Thank you for your help, as always Mr. Green.”

“Of course,” smiled Henry before it shifted into a serious expression, lips in a tight line with a nod of his head. “Good luck… Evie.”

At the sound of her name leaving his lips, Evie froze in her steps. She hadn’t expected that at all, Desmond concluded. It had always been _‘Mr. Green’_ and _‘Miss Frye’_ \- never their first names, aside from the woman’s previous outburst. For a moment, there’s an awkward silence between the two of them ( well, three of them - because Desmond himself can’t even bring himself to bark to break the tension ), until Evie picks up the corgi and tucks him under her arm.

“Yes,” Evie finally choked out, “I shall be back later - with the shroud! Good day. Mr. Green.”

And before Henry could say anything, Evie was gone - like a breeze of wind.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe I ran from him.”

_‘Yeah, that was kinda embarrassing. Maybe not as embarrassing as you basically standing like a deer in headlights, but still up there in the top embarrassing moments from this entire life I’m living that I’m currently making up in my head.’_

Infiltrating the tower, like always, was a breeze for Evie. There was no show, nothing left behind like Jacob tended to do. It was like she wasn’t ever here at all! Well, she was still here _now_ , but when she leaves, it’ll be like she wasn’t here.

Saved for Lucy Thorne’s dead body, when they would get to that.

“I suppose I can’t dwell on that any further,” sighed Evie as she rubbed her temples. “Goodness, he probably thinks I’m a twit or something, or belong in an asylum. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep working with him if I keep this up.”

She frowned at that, obviously upset by the idea. It was clear as day that she loved working along Henry’s side - studying with him at the table, picking out books. They had started doing that flower pressing hobby Henry mentioned to Desmond! Everything was going well, but because of this little moment, Evie was going to shut herself down and hide away from Greenie.

Maybe not knowing how to deal with feelings really _is_ a Frye trait. If only he could have seen what Ethan Frye was like.

_‘Well, if her dad isn’t here to teach her how to deal with her feelings, I guess I have to step in… or bark in, whatever.’_ As if on cue, Desmond let out a tiny little bark - not enough to attract any attention, but enough for her to hear him. He gave her a serious look, shaking his head at her.

“... You’re right. I’m being ridiculous.” And it seemed like Evie understood the notion well. “I can’t just hide away from him because of this. I’m sure he’s forgotten it by now.” Smiling, Evie reached down and ruffled his fur happily, to which the corgi happily accepted.

“Thank you, Desmond.” She said as she stood back up. “Taking you on these missions have helped me. Having someone to talk to is nice.”

_‘Yeah, even if that person can’t talk back.’_ To be fair, maybe that was a good thing. Sometimes you just need someone to listen to you.

It was easy to get on the guards’ sides; rescuing Miller had been an easy task as Desmond managed to get the keys from an unsuspecting Templar posing as a guard. There were _a lot_ of templars posing as guards, it turned out. Henry’s ally had caught one of them trying to sneak around, and now that they had Miller on their side, all the non-Templar guards were on their side, too. Things were starting to look up.

“Miss Thorne wants me captured. If she sees me in chains, she might let her guard down.” Evie explained as she came back from taking out the rest of the Templar guards. “I’ll need you to make it look convincing.”

“I’ll do what I can, ma’am.” The guard said with a nod. He glanced over at Desmond. “Do you… want me to act as though I’ve captured the dog as well?”

_‘Wait, what?’_

“Yes, I do think that is a good idea,” nodded Evie with one look at Desmond. “Otherwise she’ll know something is up.”

“I do think we have a muzzle around here. Wait here for a minute, I shouldn’t take too long.”

_‘Hold on,’_ growled Desmond as he watched the guard run off. _‘I didn’t agree to this!’_

 

* * *

 

_‘You know, I helped you in your time of need…’_ The corgi thought to himself as the guard walked him and Evie to where Lucy was - the assassin in chains and Desmond in a muzzle and a leash. _‘And this is the thanks I get. I’ll remember this, Evie.’_

Granted, the muzzle wasn’t even on tight and he could easily shake it off, but that didn’t mean Desmond was happy about it.

“Don’t give me that look,” whispered Evie. “It’ll only be for a few minutes. You can wait that long, can you?”

Of course, Evie couldn’t hear what he was thinking, but the look on his face said it all; that was not a very happy corgi. Even the guard was convinced he was going to bite someone’s leg off. Hopefully said leg would be Lucy’s.

_‘I don’t know, I’ve been spending too much time with Jacob and I’m starting to realize how boring all of this actually is.’_

Nevertheless, he didn’t have much time to be angry about the situation he was in. The guard pushed past the doors, revealing Lucy Thorne and a few other Templars.

“I found her wandering inside the walls, ma'am.” The guard announced, easily blending in with the Templar guards that had been roaming around. “Thought you'd want to speak with her.”

Lucy turned around, cold and threatening eyes meeting with Evie’s bright verdant eyes. The two simply stared at each other with hate filled in their eyes, the tension sharp enough to cut glass.

“Welcome, Miss Frye,” spoke Lucy finally, after minutes of silence. “Do you care to tell me where the Shroud is?”

Evie said nothing, still glaring at the woman as she played the part of acting as though she was angry for getting caught by a Templar guard.

“As you wish. I shall find it without your help.” The Templar woman leaned forward, spitting out the next words with venom: “And then, I'll _strangle_ you with it.”

With that, she backed away and turned around, looking around the room with disinterest. The assassin stayed put, waiting for the moment they were all relaxed and had their guard lowered. Things were still high tension, right now.

“I am glad you brought that dog with you. It’ll be easier to deliver him to Starrick.” Lucy chuckled and flipped through some papers that were on a nearby desk. “He is _quite_ interested in him, after all. A dog that could possibly have the same kind of vision that assassins can use - now that is a rarity.”

At that, Evie’s hand twitched a little and Desmond growled. Oh no, he was not going to get captured by templars again. He had done that before and frankly, that’s when his problems had started. He didn’t want to relive all of that again.

“I suppose you being here means you haven’t found the Shroud yet,” continued the red-haired woman, “and please let me know if you have any more information.”

Lucy’s fingers wrapped around the handle of a nearby candlestick. Evie’s gaze flashed towards the Templar next to her. His guard was down. He was unsuspecting of the assassin.

“However, I suspect you don’t have any on hand.”

At the last word, Lucy swung the candlestick towards Evie. The assassin, quick on her feet, pushed the Templar next to her into the attack as Desmond shook the muzzle off his face. Happy to have his face not covered by that stupid contraption, he lept into action and sank his teeth right into Lucy’s leg.

With her screaming and trying to shake the dog off her, she hadn’t seen her enemy drive her canesword right into her chest. A choked, mangled gasp left Lucy’s lips, as the woman fell to the floor. Reaching out, Evie swiped at the key that was around her neck, grasping it in her hand as the templars that were inside of the building had long ran out, out of fear of the assassin.

“So, you’ve murdered me after all,” gasped Lucy, blood seeping through her clothing. “But what good will this do? The Shroud isn’t here for you to take.”

“You sought a tool of healing to extend your own power,” hissed Evie as disgust washed over her features. To use a tool that was supposed to heal others, for your own purpose. Only monsters could do something like that.

“Not mine - _ours_. You are so short sighted… You would rather hold onto a power than use it to better the condition of humanity.” The Templar chuckled bitterly, before looking towards Evie with dead, cold eyes. “For god’s sake, I hope you never find it. You _truly_ have no idea what it can do.”

Evie grasped the woman’s arm, pulling her up with a glare on her features. “Then tell me.”

“ _No_.”

With that, Lucy’s body went limp, not being able to cling to life any longer after being pierced and losing blood. The elder Frye twin let out a frustrated sigh but ultimately, swiped the blood from Lucy and smearing her blood. Desmond watched the sight before him, a frown on his face as he played back Lucy’s words. To better the condition of humanity with the Shroud, he knew that wasn’t the Templar’s goal.

At least, it wasn’t _Starrick’s_ goal; he didn’t need to put two and two together. Lucy may have believed she was helping all of humanity by retrieving the shroud, but it was clear as day that Starrick had his own hidden agenda. That man was power hungry, and he had no desire to use the Shroud for anyone except for himself.

Just like Desmond himself.

Gunshots echoed from outside, screams from templars echoing afterwards, and Desmond’s heart felt emptier than before.


End file.
